


Mark of the Wind

by Black_Wren



Series: Dark Sea Chronicles [10]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Luffy's Parents, Origin Story, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Wren/pseuds/Black_Wren
Summary: This is the story of Luffy's Parents and how their decision will ultimately shape Luffy's destiny going forward from his becoming the Pirate King.
Relationships: Monkey D. Dragon/Monkey D. Luffy's Mother, Monkey D. Dragon/Original Character(s)
Series: Dark Sea Chronicles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603429
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

Prologue

April 20, 801 WG

_On the Redline, North Blue side… St. Kendell’s Cathedral._

Dragon stood before the alter of a winged beast. It had four large wings in the form of a great eagle but no legs. A long tail like a peacock flowed from its core to the stone table, the ends curling up to hold candles lit in ritual prayer. Its neck was long like a swan’s, but its face resembled a lizard’s but smoothed and beautiful. A crown of feathers or horns rose from the top of its head that complimented the snout with its flared nostrils. Large, empty eyes gazed down at the place where he stood.

The statue was supposed to depict an ancient god. One that could mean either salvation or destruction for the world. The ancient god of creation, Gaia. Nowhere else in the world did such an image exist. Supposedly, the statue, like the cathedral that hosted it and all the murals within, were crafted more than five thousand years ago. The murals were carved from the wall and might have been painted in the forgone past but now they were just lines in the wall that showed a confusing image of events from that long-ago era. Confusing in the sense that Dragon could only decipher the basic meaning of the images and guessed at what was being depicted with the spherical images in the ceiling above. 

The murals contained round ovals with little wings that seemed to move between tall rectangular structures. An image of something that looked vaguely similar to the sea train of Water 7 moved around upon a narrow bridge that looped past the lower parts of the rectangles that crowded the ground side of the image. The spheres seemed to have been depictions of a global map, but land and sea were impossible to tell apart and nothing matched with any map ever drawn, save the last one, which appeared to be the crudest of depiction of their world map.

What he could understand of the murals was the images of destruction they gradually became. Explosions toppled rectangles, he assumed they were some kind of buildings, the strange sea train falling from its bridge as the bridge broke and collapsed, the ovals tumbling to the ground and fire consuming everything until the final image was of empty landscape with the bones of the bridge and buildings. The spheres above went through similar change. Solid masses that could be either land or sea just from the size of the image compared to the sphere, fractured, pieces vanishing, others appearing until the final one that resembled their own world.

Dragon was not an idiot. Taking in the whole, he assumed the murals and spheres were telling the story of a calamity of such great significance that it changed the world into its current form, destroying the civilization that had once existed. A civilization he assumed had been far more advance and prosperous than their current society. A record of a lost history… or a warning.

The scenes of destruction all concluded near another alter, one that sat in darkness, no candles decorated it and only the minimum of upkeep had been maintained. Probably due to what it represented. Something that must not be worshiped but neither should it be forgotten.

The beast depicted in that place had been carved to match its sinister nature. It stood on a serpent’s tail that coiled around the stone table, its torso leaning over it as if readying to strike. It had two arms, muscled with hands that flexed dagger-like claws. Two bat-like wings arched above it. Its neck was short but thick. It’s head similar to a crocodile with teeth exposed as it roared… or laughed. A wreath of pointed sharp and slightly curved horns emerged from its head. 

This too was an ancient god, but one that brought only sorrow. Calling on it could be considered dealing with the devil. The god would grant a person their every wish only to later come back to demand repayment and always in blood. Cronus, god of destruction.

Dragon sighed, how long had it been since he last walked these halls, lost and on the verge of caving to such sweet temptation as what Cronus promised. How long had it been since he learned the terrible truth? Of the doom that this world was barreling toward? How much time until none of this mattered? All his efforts rendered futile by the choices of those many centuries dead?

“You men are resting comfortably,” came a contralto from the gloom of the hallway.

Dragon pulled his attention away from the images of world destruction and placed it upon the speaker. A woman of middle age, wearing her long black hair in two thick braids that ran down her front to her ankles. A long dress of blue and gold covered her from wrist to neck to ankles along with a long vest of emerald green and purple hanging from her shoulders to hem. Her black eyes pierced him from a bronze face. She held up a tall candle resting in a holder her hand held delicately.

“As you should be,” she continued as stepped toward him.

“Thank you, Prioress Marian,” replied Dragon, his low voice betraying his exhaustion and hopelessness. “My apologies for placing such a burden on you. Even as I came here, I had not expected you take us in. Especially with how we parted.”

His people, what he was left with after the dismal loss in Moady Archipelago, were seriously injured and this cathedral had been the closest place he knew of that could give aid and shelter. It also could not be found by the World Government. Something about the place seemed to turn away the eyes of those who were judged hostile to it, or so he had been told. Dragon knew if those menaces that loved to hide away and rewrite history to their benefit knew of such an ancient place, they would not hesitate to destroy it, even if nothing it stood for represented any threat to them.

Still it had been a terrible gamble. He had left St. Kendell’s so abruptly and without a word because he had disagreed with Prioress. He stood by that decision from nearly two decades ago but he knew it had probably put him in a bad light with the one person who had chosen to stand beside him when all his other friends and allies had turned away. Betrayed, alone and desperate these people, without reason, chose to aid him. Prioress Marian had even been an enemy at one point, when she had followed the Conquistador in her youth. He and the Conquistador had clashed, and the man had died because of Dragon. She should have had less reason to aid him than a stranger yet instead she had hustled him into her Cathedral and hid him from the world.

And he returned that kindness by ghosting her.

Marian harumphed, then came to stand by him. Dragon felt her ample chest brush against his arm but didn’t move. It was by far too late to be acting shy around her, even if it had been nearly two decades since they last spoke. She didn’t press against him, so he dismissed the contact as accidental even if she was unnecessarily close to him. Her presence alone seemed to steady him, calming the turmoil in his mind. Just as it had back then.

“It took me a year to forgive you for leaving,” she said. “I honestly didn’t understand why you would do that. You are man of impeccable honor and integrity, so I immediately dismissed the usual reasons. What it left me was the realization that were just that opposed to my decision regarding Maryanne’s son. I thought I was being very understand and compassionate. Factoring in your feelings while acknowledging the priority the world’s well being had in the matter. I thought it was the best compromise, but you didn’t. For nearly a year I couldn’t understand it. Then I acquired your perspective and realized how cruel and naive I was being. Of course, you would prioritize your child’s happiness over a possibly threat to the world. That is just the natural state of all proper parents. I wondered this whole time if you had forgiven me for my ignorance and lack of proper consideration and understanding.”

Dragon was silent for awhile as he let her words sink in. The flames of the candles danced in his vision. “There was nothing to forgive. It was not rage that drove me to leave. I was just protecting Luffy from having to spend his life as a prisoner that everyone here would grow to fear. Locked away from the sun with everyone assuming he will one day turn evil and try to destroy the world. With everyone preparing themselves to kill him if he showed the slightest inclination…”

“You are far kinder than I,” the Prioress whispered. “I was too ignorant of the consequences. I let my fear control me. Such an upbringing would have summoned Cronus, not prevented it. Hatred, anger, fear, they are emotions that can draw him and they are emotions that could lure a person into temptation.”

Dragon said nothing as he continued to stare at the flames as if hypnotized as he recalled the last few weeks. He had led his entire army to Maody in a vain attempt to stop Pluton from making the crossing to Paradise, the first half of the Grandline. The Marines had been waiting, perhaps anticipating that he would learn of the weapon and try to stop it. It had been an ugly battle, Pacifistas had been used liberally and most of his people couldn’t handle the firepower they represented. Worse, the Marines had unveiled no less than a half a dozen knew weapons. The Marines were a well-disciplined military force backed by the financial might and scientific research of the World Government. His hacked together army of idealists with only the moderate backing that could be offered in secret by a few supporting nations couldn’t compete in a head-on fight. It had taken every ounce of his own fighting prowess and power to even allow the inevitable retreat to happen, but still too many had been lost and they had never even got within reach of the great weapon ship.

The war he had so boldly declared only months ago at Reverie could not be continued. He was practically starting over, and a loss of this magnitude was hard to come back from. People generally weren’t inspired by someone who lost his critical battles.

What had he been doing all these years if this was where it all led? He could feel the oppressive air of imminent destruction and he was nowhere near Alabasta. The dark whispers that had been silent since he first came to St Kendell’s all those years ago were back, and they were mocking him. Hundreds of thousands of people were about to lose their lives and he was helpless to do anything to prevent it. He had this whole time to figure out how to destroy Pluton and he had let his chance slip away. How could he have not prioritized that thing? Had he really held out hope the weapon could be used to unite the seas? Even with Maryanne saying that wasn’t going to happen? Even when he had been told what she really was and should have realized the truth of those ominous words spoken with smile?

His mind began to play back the fifteen years he and Maryanne had shared. Everything he knew of her, everything he had learned of her. Where had he tripped for them to be here on the edge of Armageddon?

“A new one?” the Prioress asked, changing the subject and drawing Dragon from his internal torments. “I know it is your nature to respect your host’s traditions, but you don’t have to pretend to pray. It enough that you don’t challenge our beliefs.” She was indicating the fresh candle on the alter he had lit and placed when he first entered the room.

Dragon turned his weary eyes away from the flames and replied, “Whose pretending? An entire nation is about to be wiped out and the only thing left to stand against that behemoth of a ship are a handful of rag-tag pirates being led by my ailing son and a former military strategist who’s been out of the practice for nearly two decades.” He lowered his eyes. “Prayers are all I have left to offer, after I wasted my army trying to fight head on what I know damn well cannot be fought head on.”

“Your son and Raiju?” she repeated after a moment of stunned silence.

Dragon could only nod. Raiju had a history of making the impossible possible with his genius level strategic mind, however he was not a god. There were limits to what even he could do.

Marian pulled a fresh prayer candle from a pouch at waist. She kissed the pale stick of wax, her eyes closed, and exhaled slowly, as if she were infusing her wish into it. She lit the wick with her main candle and placed it on the alter next to his. She then took Dragon’s hand in hers and held her candle holder over to him so the stem of its pedestal was before him. Dragon hesitated for a moment, unsure then reached his free hand over and enclosed his large paw around her small fist as gently as possible.

“I heard from your men about the ancient weapon being deployed, the reason for your army’s challenge to the World Government,” she said. “I cannot believe they would use such a thing. Never mind they are content to destroy yet another nation. They truly long for their own destruction. I wish I could offer more than prayers, though. Prayers that everything I believed nearly twenty years ago was wrong.”

Dragon glanced at Marian when mild surprise, to exhausted and defeated for anything stronger. The prioress met his gaze and responded to the unasked question. “I believed your son was Cronus, remember. That he would awaken to destroy the world once grown. If I read between the lines of all the newspaper reports then he shown me he possesses the exact opposite in nature. If this observation is true, then he might be the only thing that can stop Cronus. This threat to Alabasta may be the final sign of where his destiny lies. So let us pray, Dragon. That is all we can do now.”

Dragon took a deep breath. Thinking back to how they had all gotten here. His late wife Maryanne, a mystery from her arrival into his life to her abrupt departure. Luffy the child she had predicted they would have together long before he had accepted what had been his inevitable fate to marry her.

_“You’ll try, but Luffy will beat you to the punch.”_

He exhaled. _May Maryanne’s last prophecy come true._

******************************************************************

_On the Grandline… Laboon’s Stomach._

The Straw Hats and the Hearts settled quickly into a routine. Laboon had an excellent sense of direction. They only needed to course correct twice a day and it was mainly reassuring they had the right heading. The islands’ magnetic fields that flummoxed their compasses had no effect on migrating animals. Laboon swam beneath the surface, since Island Whales on this side of the Redline were highly unusual. His appearance would raise suspicion in the minds of intelligent Marines. He surfaced only to receiving his course correction. They were making excellent time, possibly even faster than they would have if they had traveled it under their own power.

Law wanted to spend the time strategizing but, in reality, there was only so much they could plan before they needed Alabasta’s input. And the Straw Hats seemed to be clinging to their carefree nature that had so irked him during their original alliance. There was an air of desperation to their actions, however, and he feared the rest of the crew was picking up on their captain’s unease and trying to help him relax. Law left them to their own devices, knowing it both pointless to try to stop them and that their antics were probably very necessary right now.

Lance helped Luffy through his mandated exercises as well as trying to teach him new techniques. It was during one of these sessions that an argument broke out between the two.

“You are not going to be the torch bearer for this fight,” snapped Lance, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Why not?” snapped Luffy. “There is nothing I can do to recover any amount of fighting ability that is going to be useful in this. While everyone else is beating up Marines I can at least carry the torch to Pluton’s magazine.”

“There will be Marines down below to stop you,” retorted his godfather. 

“You’re teaching me hand-to-hand combat, aren’t you?”

“To defend yourself from attackers not to go on the attack. There is not enough time between now and the assault on Alabasta to make up for the years you’ve lost. I’m not good enough, no one is, to accomplish that. Not even your mother, if she were still alive, could have gotten you battle ready for this. Though, I wish she was because, given your body type, her unique style would have suited you wonderfully.”

Luffy suddenly looked irked. “What kind of style is that? I never cared before about what came before because I always thought it didn’t matter to achieve my dream. And it didn’t! But that journey is over. Now, thanks to that spirit, I have to prepare to defend the whole Grandline and not a day after that happens one of my friends ends up in trouble. There is a real threat that if I don’t save Vivi and Alabasta that my crew and my brother will get repossessed by angry ghosts that plan to burn the whole world in revenge for something that happened eight hundred years ago. 

“Worse, I am now finding out that that spirit thing was beat by Kaa-chan. Then here you are saying I’m doing things that Kaa-chan could do, when I know nothing about her, know less than nothing about what she can do and thus what I can do. I don’t know anything about my parents or what they knew or did, and this mess we’re in right now I could have known about if I had known my own family’s history. Something even my own grandfather didn’t even bother telling me about. All he cared about was training me and Ace to be good Marines, not in telling us stories.”

Lance grimaced then sighed as everyone else remained silent. The outburst was so un-Luffy like that no one knew how to react. The former Marine was only able to respond because he was not familiar with Luffy’s particular brand of behavior prior to his death. He had some ideas, from apparently his knowledge of the source material, but that had its limits. He was learning the new Luffy right along with everyone else, he just wasn’t hindered by old Luffy expectations.

“I’m sorry your grandfather wasn’t so accommodating,” replied Lance. “I guess he really buys into the whole ‘ignorance is bliss’ thing the World Government is selling to everyone.” He sat down. “I can fill in some of the gaps but to be honest Maryanne was always an enigma. She was very charismatic and full of laughter but when I stop and think about it, everything that came before we met is a complete mystery. She was always vague or dodgy with her answers to basic history questions that are part of a general introduction. I don’t know anything about her history or her family. Which is probably why she constantly surprised us with her choices.”

Luffy sat down in front of the man. “Well it has to be better than nothing.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you everything I know of your parents from their first meeting to their final parting. After that, you’ll have to make your own conclusions.”

Luffy nodded. Law and the others sat down as well. It seemed like this was going to take a while.

“I should probably start at the beginning, when Dragon, Helgram, myself and Maryanne first met,” said Lance. “This was more than a decade before you were born, Luffy. Us three were fresh out of the academy and had been assigned as part of a unit to get field experience. Though I should provide a little background before I get there.

“Helgram was from a family of privilege and was just full of himself, as if the world owed him everything. Born and raised in Marineford by his Vice-Admiral father and well-to-do mother from a successful merchant clan. He had long cool gray hair tied back in a thick braid and cobalt eyes that managed to look down on everything just by glancing at it. 

“Me, I was a superstitious recruit from some backwater little village. Since it was New World, he didn’t consider me hopeless like he did so many of our classmates. I may have been from some no name village but the Grandline, especially New World, bred a superior class just by what it was. So, he considered bottom rung New World to be the equivalent of poor man of medium class nations from other Blues. Still way far beneath him, though. Needless to say, we did not get along.”

“I bet,” said Sanji. “He sounds like a jerk”

“He took Dragon for a poor man of the medium class nations from East Blue. Dragon just blew him off as beneath his contempt as he never cared about class or station. Well that just pissed Helgram off. You were supposed to care when he slighted you. Those two went toe-to-toe so many times and got into so much trouble because of it. It ended when the parents were called, unusual but they were getting that out of control. Helgram’s father was just as snotty as his son, probably even worse. He wanted Dragon removed as the source of the problem. That argument ended when Vice-Admiral Garp strolled in.”

“Yeah, Jii-chan is good at ending arguments,” said Luffy while looking pointedly at his fist. A few of his crew snorted along with Lance and Law. They could easily see what Lance was leaving unsaid about how the confrontation ended.

“Realizing his mistake,” continued Lance after a moment of letting everyone have their snicker. “Helgram tried to cozy up to Dragon afterwards. I don’t know what was said to Helgram by his father, but suddenly he was treating Dragon like he was the prince of a small nation. Helgram would not socialize with me and Dragon would not talk about his family. That was the reason why Helgram made his error in the first place. Dragon was highly embarrassed his father was contacted and our entire unit now knew he was Garp’s son. He actually hadn’t wanted that information to get out. And with good reason it seemed. Everyone changed their behavior toward Dragon after they found out.”

“Why?” asked Luffy.

“Patience,” replied Lance. “These things need to be told in order or we could get lost in the retelling. Once answer will lead to another question which leads to another and suddenly the story won’t make any sense because its being told all over the place.”

“Eh…” Luffy pouted and Lance tousled his hair.

“It will make a lot more sense if you just wait until the end to ask questions. Most of them will be answered during the telling, but it will all make a lot more sense if you wait for it to be told.”

“Okay…” Luffy didn’t seem convinced but he accepted it and fell silent.

“Now as I was saying,” continued Lance. “Everyone changed their behavior toward Dragon after they found out. But not me.

“Dragon had always treated me as an equal. Curious about my beliefs even if he didn’t share them. He often stood up for me when the others followed Helgram’s bully tactics against me and others of low station. I didn’t see what the big fuss after the big reveal was about. Clearly, I lacked any knowledge of Marine politics. So, I asked Dragon, figuring it was best to get the information straight from the source. Dragon was almost giddy that I was clueless and begged me not to ask about it further. He said even his father didn’t like talking about it and it was unfortunate that it had come up in the first place.”

“Neither Jii-chan nor Tou-chan liked talking about it?” asked Luffy in surprise.

“Sounds like those two may have been higher class than their action and beliefs would let on. Was Garp even the Hero of the Marines then?” said Law.

“The incident with the Rocks Pirates was only a few years old and still fresh in everyone’s mind,” replied Lance.

“I don’t think it would involve that but the way the Marines were reacting… So odd,” said Nami with a frown.

“Indeed, and it will probably be something you, Luffy, will have to talk about with your father,” said Lance with a shrug. “As his son and product of that line, you have a right to know about that history. Considering it might come to bite you in the ass sometime later. Ignorance is not bliss, no matter how much the World Government want to believe it.

“Continuing, Dragon didn’t want to discuss it and I could respect that. Dragon was so appreciative, he started hanging out with me more, just for the normalcy I brought. He really didn’t like ass-kissing. Some of the others tried to tell me what his deal was but I was respecting Dragon’s wishes and would shut down their attempts. Eventually they all settled down and a new normal entered the unit. Except for Helgram and his gaggle of hangers-on. Dragon was forced to be cold as ice with that lot just to get some space.

“So, when we were assigned to the same unit, Dragon was pissed. He had wanted Helgram to be part of a different unit but whether it was influence or simply the fact we were the top three in our class was unknown.

“We were then shipped off to a base in Altear. And that is where this all begins.”


	2. Hero of Altear Ch 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hero of Altear Summary: Marine Cadets, Dragon and Lance, find themselves teaming up with Captain of the Sickle Moon Pirates, Maryanne, to defend the city of Altear from the Kriegan’s Pirate Fleet when their commanding officer sends the Marine Fleet away, leaving the city with few to defend its great walls.

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 1

May 8, 766 WG 

“Sir, we are receiving reports of multiple strikes by the Kriegan Family,” reported a young Ensign to the base’s commanding officer, Rear-Admiral Mester. He was standing near to the training grounds in the base to observe the cadets headquarters had sent to him for field training. He turned to regard the Ensign and the young man continued, “They are requesting aid in driving off the threat.”

Lance took a sip of water from his canteen as he paused in his combat training. The day was warm and sweat trickled down his face and stained the undershirt he had stripped down to. He recalled from their briefing that the Kriegan Family were a nasty pirate family that had dominated the West Blue for three generations. West Blue did have its problems with mobsters but the Kriegan were bonniefied pirates. Pirates with the organizational skills, capabilities and resources of the mob. They were the biggest threat the Marines faced in this sea.

“How many locations?” demanded the Rear-Admiral. He was an older man rail thin instead of bulky muscled like many in his position, his combat abilities were never what they needed to be to earn this rank, but his ability to command and run a base as significant as this one was above the grade. At least that was what Lance had been told about his ability and why he was a Rear-Admiral when he could barely swing a sword or aim a gun. 

So far that all had appeared accurate from the way he ran the day-to-day affairs here in Altear. His only fault that Lance had ever noticed was that he became acutely jealous of subordinates that showed both combat and leadership talent. He being acutely aware of his failings, he had a tendency to become a royal pain to such individuals. The lesser in rank they were, the worse the treatment. Dragon and Helgram had been on his shit-list since the unit’s arrival. Lance had somehow skated beneath his notice, probably because he didn’t come across as leadership material. Too easy going.

“Twelve,” replied the Ensign. He then rattled off the names of the attacked nations. Lance didn’t know any of them and didn’t care to. He would go where he was told and fight the pirates he was pointed at. That was how the easy going rolled. 

Dragon came over to get a drink of water, but his face was a mask of concern. He had heard the Ensign as well and, unlike Lance, was visibly upset. Lance wondered what he was missing. Why fuss over something that was well above his paygrade to understand? There would be plenty of time to fuss over such details if any of them made it to ensign.

The Rear-Admiral sighed and said, “Very well, send our ships to sort this out and make it quick.”

Dragon spat water, drawing the attention of everyone on the practice field, including Rear-Admiral Mester. Lance expected Dragon to babble an apology and say something about a wrong pipe being the cause, as anyone would after drawing the attention of their ill-tempered superior in such a way, but that was not what happen.

“Sir, we only have five ships assigned to this base,” said Dragon, once he cleared his windpipe.

Lance would have choked on his water if had been drinking any at the moment. Dragon, a mere cadet was publicly questioning his superior’s orders? A rear-admiral no less?

Yes, Dragon had issues with the man due to the Rear-Admiral’s pettiness. Shockingly Helgram ducked his head and kissed ass whenever Rear-Admiral Mester came down on him. As a result, the Rear-Admiral had been gradually lightening his unreasonableness toward the slate-gray haired young man. Helgram’s smiles at the mess hall when his cronies asked how he could do that promised retribution whenever Helgram had the rank to get away with it. Dragon on the other hand…

Lance really thought the roles would be reversed when it came to how the two would respond to a superior’s petty bully tactics. He expected Helgram, who strutted around like he was the greatest thing since slice bread, to take issue with being treated like garbage. While Dragon, who acted humble and cool-headed at all times, would silently take it while plotting to wreck the older man’s entire career at his earliest convenience. Dragon just struck him as more long sighted in that regard. However, that wasn’t the case. Apparently, Dragon despised bullying and wouldn’t let it go unchallenged. It wasn’t just when Dragon got bullied, but when Helgram or anyone else was getting unfair harshness. This, of course, earned him nothing but the Rear-Admiral’s wrath, and boy did the man take delight in doling out extra punishment assignments to Dragon whenever the young man talked back.

Dragon really needed to learn how to pick his battles. Or at least the benefits of a tactical retreat. He was in no position to win a confrontation with Rear-Admiral Mester.

The Rear-Admiral arched an eyebrow and said with a disdainful sniff, “That’s why they’ll be going together, to scatter the pirates quickly. We can’t ignore these attacks.”

“But these ships are supposed to be protecting Altear,” protested Dragon as the entire unit stared in slack-jawed horror. “The nation has no standing army to defend itself as dictated by the World Government. They leave and this nation will have only the citadel’s great walls to protect its citizenry from attack.”

Oh, thought Lance. He hadn’t known that about Altear. Must have dozed off during that part of the West Blue briefing. Really? Why did a briefing on West Blue have to be five hours long with no breaks? 

That tidbit, however, did change everything. If Altear had no military power of its own, then the Marines needed to be present at all times. Why was the nation forbidden to have a military? Had that been in the briefing? Damn, he needed to grow a stronger stomach. Marine coffee was the worst but falling asleep during a briefing was not good. Information about your assignment was critical to success in battle. Lance resolved to ask Dragon about it later. It seemed stupid to force a country to be defenseless. Especially when it was as important as this one seemed to be.

Altear was a large country, the island it resided on probably would have been more accurate to classify as a subcontinent. It was large enough that it could take days to reach the interior by horseback and three times as long to reach the far coast. From what he had observed in the port, it was a major exporter of agriculture products. The dress and style of the buildings suggested wealth and the harbor was always full of cargo ships. This was no inconsequential nation to be ignored like his was.

In that sense, Dragon was completely right. They couldn’t send the fleet away for any reason. Those ships’ one and only task was to protect Altear. The nearest island was three days away and Lance suddenly doubted the affected nations were that close. No matter how swiftly the fleet moved it would still be an engagement of a few weeks at minimum since there were twelve nations involved. No, it was stupid to send them, but this was the Rear-Admiral. If he couldn’t see how stupid it was, Lance knew Dragon’s protests wouldn’t change his mind. Pride would hold fast to this decision, even if the Rear-Admiral had been a reasonable man, which he wasn’t. He could see it written all over the Rear-Admiral’s incensed face.

The Rear-Admiral stood there for a moment before he recovered enough of his composure to say with a sneer, “You really are a golden child. Spoiled and entitled to think you could question me. What was your family thinking in not training you to mind your superiors?”

Dragon stepped back as if he’d been slapped then ground his teeth. That comment seemed to have nailed Dragon’s mystery family issues and, with the two on such bad terms, it was a hot button topic. Dragon honestly looked as he was about to punch the Rear-Admiral when Helgram stepped forward and grabbed his fellow cadet’s shoulder.

“My apologies for my comrade’s insubordination,” said Helgram with one of those sickly-sweet smiles common to all brown-nosers. Seriously, how did Helgram sleep at night? “You know how his family is. From what I understand this type of zealous behavior is common when they’re fresh off the estate. While we did have a briefing on the way here explaining the basics about West Blue, I’m sure you have a much more detailed grasp of the situation. We submit to your expertise.”

The Rear-Admiral smirked, his chest puffing out at his own self-importance. “Yes, I understand. Overzealous youth from prestigious families and bearing higher education always think they know more than the officers who have been serving for years. I’m pleased to see the Methmora family remembered to temper their children with humility.” He looked down on Dragon who only held his place through Helgram’s tightening grip on his shoulder. “It would do well for you to remember you are still learning and not the expert.”

The Rear-Admiral then turned and strode away while issuing order to ready the ships for departure as if Dragon had never said anything. Everyone else studied Dragon like he had transformed into a rare species of beetle. Lance felt bad for his friend even as he wished he had used more tact in trying to address the issue.

Helgram held his smile until the Rear-Admiral was gone then yanked hard on Dragon’s shoulder, spinning the young man around to face him and snarled, “For someone who doesn’t like touting his family’s bloodline, you sure love to throw your weight around at the stupidest of times.”

Dragon yanked his shoulder out from Helgram’s grip. “And for someone who prances around like he’s God’s gift to the world I would think you would have a little more pride than to kowtow to that imbecile.”

Helgram planted his fists on his waist and snapped, “Be grateful I know how to smooth things over and was willing to do it for you. By sticking my neck out like that, I could have earned whatever he decided to throw at you for punishment as well.” 

“I didn’t ask you stick your neck out for me. Nor did I expect it. I’m fully capable of handling my own consequences.”

“You looked like you were about to hit him. Do you want to be thrown out of the Marines? I can just see the response from your family now. They’d stick you in hole so deep you’d never see the light of day again.”

Lance looked between the two. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Sparks were flying where their gazes met. “Miracle of Miracles, I actually agree with Helgram on this,” he said in a voice an octave lower than his usual register.

Both young men started at Lance’s verbal intrusion then turned to glare at him; Dragon in disbelief and with a hint of betrayal in his eyes and Helgram in annoyance. 

“You actually agree with Mester’s assessment?” demanded Dragon.

“I never said I agree with Mester!” hissed Helgram, though Dragon had not been addressing him. It was clear that Dragon believed whoever argued with him was agreeing with the Rear-Admiral. Rather simple-minded of him but perhaps his temper caused a temporary IQ shortage. He wouldn’t have been the first to get stupid when angered.

At the same time Lance raised is hands and replied, “Of course I don’t agree with him. And to be fair, Helgram smoothing things over is called diplomacy not agreement. Stop making me defend Helgram, would you? It’s violating some law of nature, I know it.”

Helgram closed his mouth as a few of the cadets snickered. His annoyance vanishing into cool wariness. In contrast, Dragon scowled and opened his mouth. Sigh.

Lance cut his friend off before he could speak. “For what it’s worth, I one hundred percent agree with your assessment. Sending the fleet is a bad idea.” Dragon closed his mouth, not the least bit happier but now listening. “The thing is, neither you, nor I, nor Helgram are in any position to argue that decision. And frankly calling him out on it in public, would guarantee any officer, not just the Rear-Admiral, would hold their ground out of pride. If you want people to change their minds about a bad decision you can’t let them feel like they’re an idiot for thinking that way.”

“Like I’m an idiot for trying to stop a potential disaster?” hissed Dragon. Where did all of Dragon’s reasonableness and cool headedness go? Did the last few weeks of being picked on by an old man wear his patience down to nothing? Or was a smoldering Dragon just as stupid as a blazing one? Looked like Dragon suffered from a cool-down that was as long as his warm-up. Lance resisted the urge to face-palm.

“No, your heart was where it needed to be, just wrong attack plan,” replied Lance, with his hands stilled raised in a placating measure. He needed his friend calm again; this unreasonable version was new territory for Lance and Lance fought his best battles on familiar grounds. Dragon did appreciate an honest and fair assessment of his actions, Lance just needed to assure him that his beliefs weren’t the issue. A person’s hardcore beliefs were always the most sensitive subjects and it was best to avoid brining them into an argument if one wanted a person to listen. They could be changed but only after a lot of very careful and sensitive discussions. Not that Lance wanted to change Dragon’s sense of justice and responsibility, just the way he expressed it.

It was the right choice of words. All the fight went out of Dragon and he grabbed his head in exasperation. “That man! He supposedly got his rank from being a competent military leader, yet this is a rookie mistake that he’s making. I’m starting to wonder if he actually earned that rank or bought it.”

Several cadets hissed. It was a major taboo to speculate on how one earned their promotions. It was supposed be by merit and the higher-ups did not look favorably on those that spread rumors that those promoting Marines were bribed. It wasn’t just Mester’s honor being called into question, it was also the superior officer who promoted him. Such rumors were usually silenced since it undermined trust in authority and demoralized the lower ranks. Or at least that was how it was explained. Cynical Lance had a darker view on their policy of silence.

Helgram pinched his nose and said, “I do get that same vibe especially after this, but there’s nothing we can do at this time. I suggest we hold our ground, mind our tongues, especially mind our tongues! and log every little incident. Then report the whole mess to those who have the authority to care and will listen. The benefits you and I have, Dragon, is that our fathers have that necessary rank and will hear us out. Until then you really need to learn how to grin and bear it like a good little cadet. Save the campaign against petty bullying by superiors for when you have the rank to do something about it. Right now, it just won’t end well for us no matter what we do.”

Dragon glared at Helgram and the young man added, “Pitcher versus rock, Dragon. However, the confrontation goes, who fairs better?”

Dragon threw his hands in the air in defeat then snarled, “Ten-to-one odds, we’ll be sieged by the Kriegans within three days of their departure.”

“Excuse me?” said Lance.

“This whole thing smells like a trap. Those shotgun attacks are just to lure the fleet away. The main force is probably lying in wait. Altear is the fattest target in the West Blue. The Kriegan’s will come.”

“Yes, Chicken Little, and the sky is falling,” muttered Helgram as he rubbed his face, tired of Dragon’s drama. “Are you cracking under Mester?”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that’s the case,” said Lance with a sigh at the same time. Everyone stared at him and he realized they were trying to determine who he was agreeing with. He looked at the group and shrugged, “Twelve nations being hit simultaneously, and our fleet – the fleet that is supposed to remain here at all times and everyone knows this – is being called upon to respond? It’s so obviously a lure that if the Rear-Admiral didn’t buy his position then he got bought.”

There was another dramatic gasp from the gaggle of cadets. This was an even more taboo topic than buying positions. Sure, it was bad to bribe and accept bribes to earn higher ranks but to accept the bribe of a criminal to help them commit a crime? That level of corruption was an executable offense if caught. At least with the rank bribes it was all staying in house. Aiding the criminals that they were supposed to be hunting was a whole other thing. The Marines definitely didn’t want people thinking they could be bribed, no one would trust them ever again if they thought that. As such, rumors of such behavior were usually squashed first with the accused officer maybe being investigated later. Image before integrity after all.

“For someone who grew up on some backwater island you sure have a scary understanding of politics,” said Helgram in a low and even tone as he regarded his fellow cadet for the first time with some semblance of respect.

Lance smiled and replied, “It’s all a game of strategy and critical thinking. I happen to love those types of games.”

“Uh huh,” muttered Dragon as he stalked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 of Hero of Altear. I beginning to run through the chapters for editing and refining the story, since I’m having a bit of a writer’s block regarding Part 2 Distant Thunder.
> 
> I’m trying to not show Dragon like he is the series more this it the journey of how he became the enigma of the Revolutionary Army. This will also show how Luffy, as he developes in the Dark Sea Chronicles, grows to be more like his father. At first it will look like he’s more his mother’s son, and this will show how, but then you start to realize that he’s more like father.
> 
> Lance is probably going to change the least. He’s more like he stays the coarse and how you can measure the growth of the others.
> 
> I’m sorry if I seem to sidetrack from time to time to bring up small details but this really is the only time to bring those up and they help flesh out the world of Dark Sea Chronicles.
> 
> Just a reminder, the dating system I use I put the storyline’s current time as year 800 for simplicity’s sake. There is nothing official about it. It helps to tack down the amount of time that is going by.


	3. Hero of Altear Ch 2

Three days later, Lance stared in horror, along with the rest of the cadets and the whole nation of Altear, at the hundreds of ships sitting just beyond the harbor.

 _Crap, Dragon, why did you have to be right?_ he thought. 

Lance had asked Dragon about Altear’s importance and lack of military after he had some time to cool down, and well out of earshot of Rear-Admiral Mester and his tattle-tale minions. No need to get Dragon in worse trouble than he already was just to satisfy curiosity. And Lance was sure that any conversation regarding Altear’s apparent helplessness was going to be seen as a criticism by the egotistical Rear-Admrial.

Altear was an agriculture nation, one that had no rival in all the world, but was indispensable in West Blue. West Blue islands were mostly rocky or heavily wooded. Great for mines, quarries and lumber but lousy for food production. What places that could have been farmed wound up being towns and cities since so little could be built on. Altear’s size and flatlands were ideal for farming and it provided the bulk of food for the West Blue population. Everyone had to buy food from them. This made it the most influential nation, because it could hold all of West Blue hostage by refusing to sell its food to the other nations. This was why the World Government had banned Altear from having a standing military when Altear joined the alliance. 

It was heavily implied by the tone Dragon used that Altear’s joining the World Government was more volun-told than voluntary. Altear was powerful enough that it wouldn’t have needed to join the World Government and therefore shouldn’t have had to agree to such draconian terms. Lance wondered at how the volun-told succeeded, but Dragon had moved on with his explanation without confirming Lance’s suspicions. It was possible he didn’t know the reason, or it was forbidden history, like the Void Century. Probably the later. Lance had quickly figured out that the World Government were firm believers of the mantra “Ignorance is Bliss”, if the masses are ignorant then the government knows bliss.

West Blue could have created their own empire between forcing the other nations to comply or starve and the fact they could feed their own large army without issue. Also, buster calls would be ineffective against a nation so large that it took days to travel inland. Lance really wanted to know how they got forced into such a state, but he would have to shelve his curiosity for another day. Probably for when he was of sufficient rank to know the military’s dirty secrets.

The apparent upside of not having to fund a military was that it had a lot of standing wealth it used to expand its agriculture technology, making it even more productive and the most stable agriculture nation in the world. That was hardly a reason to accept such unideal terms but one they could use to assuage the people who would have been made nervous by the sudden loss of self-sufficiency. 

The downside of its continued agriculture expansion was that it put the nation even more in the position of being able to potentially hold other West Blue nations hostage plus its standing wealth, that had only grown in the intervening years, made it an ideal target for criminals of various intentions. If pirates took the nation, they could not only take Altear’s vast wealth but also demand ransom for the entire West Blue. That type of situation was something the World Government wanted to avoid without giving Altear the ability to stand on its own. For all they didn’t care about small nations, an entire ocean was nearly a fourth of their power and wealth. Not to mention the rest of the blues would not look favorably on the World Government if they allowed such a fiasco. They had demanded Altear abandon their military when it was such a juicy target? Then couldn’t defend it from common pirates?! If they couldn’t protect Altear, and West Blue by extension, then the World Government couldn’t protect them. The ramifications of this siege alone would be felt worldwide and cause political turmoil.

Once Dragon spelled out what Altear represented Lance began to suspect the Rear-Adimral even more over his decision. Hell, Dragon had been tactful when addressing the man. He hadn’t called the Rear-Admiral “Moronic idiot” or “Sell out” after all. Yep, Lance needed to work on the iron stomach. Briefings must never be slept through.

Fires were already lit on the sea. Other pirates, small time captains and their crews not associated with anyone and had been minding their manners while in harbor, had found themselves trapped between the walls of Altear’s citadel and the incoming enemy fleet. They’re attempt to escape to sea had been met with concentrated cannon fire. It seemed the Kriegans didn’t care to let anyone leave, whether they were pirate or citizen. Fighting in the town had already broken out as the first waves of the outlaw clan’s forces came ashore.

The Kriegans were one of the most dangerous group of outlaws the West Blue had ever seen. If not for the defunct Rox Pirates, nor the rising terrors of the Grandline, Charlotte Lynn, Kaido, Edward Newgate and Shiki, they might even have held that title for the whole world. They were a multigenerational pirate clan that ruled the seaside underworld of West Blue for more than a century. This was not their first attack on Altear, worse, their two prior raids over the decades had been grand successes, allowing them to grow to the menace they were now. (Lance had still been awake for that part of the briefing.) Altear’s citadel walls had been created as a result of the two prior raids. No word on why it had taken two raids for them to get citadel walls, but politics more than likely had something to do with the delay.

Prince Oliver didn’t waste time chewing out Mester for his fuck up, though his thunderous expression revealed how much he wanted to. He also wasn’t wasting time letting the now questionable Rear-Admiral try to sort out how to handle the fallout from his decision. The Prince gave orders to the city guard and the assembling volunteer militia directly. (The volunteer militia was the only form of military permitted to the nation outside of city law enforcement.) They evacuated the population to the citadel as efficiently as was possible under the circumstances. Still it hadn’t been fast enough.

Kriegans were landing in the harbor and the people were still racing toward the city gates. The fighting had broken out between brave souls, who were trying to hold back the attackers, and the invaders while the last of the civilians rushed to safety. Lance felt pain stab his heart as he stood on the walls overlooking the wharves. Those brave people were going to lose their lives. There would be no way for them to reach the gates with the hordes of Kriegan forces pouring onto the shore. They wouldn’t have the chance to retreat. They would just be worn down by the waves of fighters without knowing if they were the least bit successful in saving anyone.

Lance, Dragon and several others had wanted to go and help with the evacuation, but the Rear-Admiral refused to let them. “You’ll just get in the way. You haven’t drilled with the local guards and militia. Stay put and be ready to help close the gate.”

Dragon looked like he was about to give their commanding officer the one finger salute when Prince Oliver echoed the Rear-Admiral’s assessment. “As reluctant as I am to agree with the cause of our current plight, the Rear-Admiral is correct. Go to the gatehouse instead. Once the last of the people are in, we’re going to need every strong back to get the gates closed. I fear those hinges will resist. The gates haven’t needed to be shut in years.” At least the prince looked appreciative of their desire to help even as he threw another scowl at the Rear-Admiral. Dragon saluted the prince, with the rest of the cadets following a heartbeat behind, then the whole gaggle rushed toward the gatehouse.

*********************************

Dragon, Lance and a few others now stood over the gate watching the steady stream of people running in along with Prince Oliver. The harbor was on fire, the defenders fallen. It would be only minutes remained before the enemy would appear on the main road, cutting down stragglers as they rushed toward their target. The cadets would have to close the gates once they reached that far, condemning anyone not already through. There were still so many people coming!

Dragon gritted his teeth, silently urging the masses to hurry, for this to be it. For the defenders to have succeeded in creating a gap between the evacuating people and the attackers so they could get them all. He understood the reason the gates had to be closed without allowing everyone through. If the enemy forced their way in while the gates were even partially open, everyone that had reached the citadel would be lost. It still burned him to know people seeking sanctuary would be abandoned to torture and death.

“Your Highness, we need to start closing the gates,” said an older man, the captain of the guard. His voice sounded resigned. “We don’t know how much resistance the hinges will offer us. If we wait until the last moment, we are not able to seal them in time.”

Dragon turned and saw the Prince grit his teeth, his eyes troubled. He was thinking the same thing, that the gates needed to close now, but he too did not wish to condemn any of his people. Dragon took in the turmoil on the man’s face. It was so rare to meet a royal who cared about his people like this. Or stand on the front lines with his officers instead of giving orders from the safety of his inner palace, far from the danger that threatened his people.

Dragon looked at the stream of people again then back at the prince. Was there truly nothing they could do? Nothing he could do?

A whisper, voiceless and just beyond his conscious mind’s ability to understand, tickled his ear. He looked out to the city again as if compelled. Nothing had changed, the buildings were burning, and it seemed the fighting there had died down. Then an explosion occurred. Dragon blinked. Then it occurred again. He focused his attention. The whisper tickled his ear again, seeming more urgent, and for a brief second it was like he was there. 

Invaders flew back from a single tiny swordsman. The unorthodox get up marked the fighter as a pirate but he was fighting alone against the Kriegans. With every slash bodies and wrecked buildings flew away. This was no small-time pirate, but he was no ally of the Kriegans either. The pirate roared and Dragon caught sight of flying tears and felt the throb of rage and sorrow as if it were his own. Bodies surrounded the pirate, yet Dragon somehow knew that those were this pirate’s crew. The pirate was the last of his ship and grief was driving him to fight wildly and without purpose beyond hurting the enemy that had robbed him of what he loved more than his own life.

The whisper came again, stressing something dire in its voiceless, wordless impressions. A different compulsion came to him and, without thought, he yielded to its command.

To the shock and horror of all near him, Dragon launched himself from the wall. He kicked the side pushing himself forward mid-fall, tumbled along the raised step, launched himself from the edge and landed in a tumbled next to the main road. He rolled twice then came up and started running without losing speed. So easy, he didn’t even think about it. How many times had he done such a maneuver growing up as part of his hell training from his father? The trick was to control the descent, to keep in motion but slowing his speed until he could safely stop without injury. Bruises were just a part of life and easily ignored.

Dragon raced down the side of the road, avoiding the fleeing people running in the opposite direction so as not to impede their escape. That pirate, he was powerful, they would need him for the defense. They would need every fighter they could, but that pirate… Yes, that was his instinct, the urgency hidden in the voiceless voice. They needed that captain if they were to survive. Dragon was sure of it without understanding why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Between the holiday and the fact, I’m going to moving into my new house soon, I haven’t much time to edit Part 1.
> 
> Part 1 is actually finished but I’m going through each chapter and editing and adjusting as needed. I reread chapter 1 and realized I still had some errors so that was updated today.
> 
> I’ll try to continue to edit Part 1 as much as possible and get the chapter up when they’re ready, but it may be slow going because of the move.


	4. Hero of Altear Ch 3

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 3:

Dragon didn’t need to wonder where that particular pirate he was looking for was. He simply followed the sound of destruction. A gap had appeared between the retreating citizens and attackers. The Kriegan’s had become distracted by the lone pirate that was wielding monster strength in the face of his comrades’ deaths. 

Dragon grimaced even as he ran forward. A pirate with that much strength probably couldn’t unleash it fully when surrounded by allies. It was too big an attack that would strike both friend and foe alike. The crew had probably not wanted to abandon their captain, and a captain Dragon was certain this pirate was, but in not doing so, they had hindered their captain’s ability to fight and had died as a consequence. The again where could they have retreated to? The sea was closed to them and Dragon did not think the citadel would be open to pirates, even in these circumstances.

That thought almost made the Marine cadet pause. Would Altear let him bring this pirate into the city now if they would have barred the crew before? The whisper came again as doubt nearly drove him to turn around. Some part wondered why he was doing this. Why was he running to save a pirate? He was a Marine. What did it matter that pirates were killing pirates? At least this one was going to die benefiting the remaining citizens. The rearguard now had a chance of reaching the citadel thanks to the massive distraction the captain’s fighting had caused the enemy.

Dragon pushed himself forward with greater speed.

That was exactly why. This pirate had lost his entire crew while buying time for strangers. Dragon couldn’t let him die. His inner justice couldn’t allow someone that didn’t just flee inland when the attack began fall here. He would just have to somehow convince the guardsmen to allow an exception. Maybe, just maybe, in the face of this disaster, he wouldn’t have to try very hard. He had least had to try, though. There was no way to know and abandoning the man on pessimistic view would haunt Dragon far more than being refused after making this much effort.

His haki detected the incoming attack and he dodged to the left without conscious thought as debris and bodies flew passed, grazing his right arm. He stumbled from the impact of the fly-by, slight as it was, but kept his feet, coming to a halt. He had found the pirate.

The man was petite, wearing an oversized reddish coat that would drag on the ground if he weren’t spinning so fast that its hem remained in the air. Somehow the diminutive pirate had managed to keep his overly flamboyant hat on his head despite the maneuvers he was pulling. The damn thing was purple with a brim as wide as the pirate was tall and a large purple feather sticking out of it. It was so utterly ridiculous that Dragon hesitated for a moment in astonishment and wondered how anyone could fight in such a thing.

Then the pirate turned around and spied the young Marine. Hostility and homicidal intent slammed Dragon with a force so intense it threatened to take his breath away and he froze for a moment. The wild attacks had created a temporary lull in the charging hordes and Dragon found himself the only person left standing within the small man’s kill sphere.

Uh oh!

The pirate focused crimson eyes that seethed with rage as tears streaked down his face, drawing trails in the dirt and blood on his cheeks. Each hand held a long sword. The pirate captain raised the swords as if to strike Dragon and the Marine cadet recovered himself enough to raise his hands in a placating gesture.

“Wait! I’m not here to hurt you!” Dragon cried.

The captain roared at him and charged, not listening, or maybe not hearing, in his blood rage.

To Dragon’s astonishment, the roar was a ringing soprano. The diminutive pirate captain was a woman.

That startlingly revelation didn’t affect Dragon’s reflexed as his body leapt to the side, barely managing to avoid the swift stabs of the dual blades. Dragon offered a silent prayer of gratitude and an apology to his father. If it hadn’t been for his father’s hell training, he wouldn’t have developed the observational haki needed to see through the attack nor have the fined tune reactions to avoid them. Her movements were that swift and she didn’t let up just because her first strike didn’t hit. Instead, she pulled her swords back and changed to a series of rapid strikes with the swords flying forward like a woodpecker, driving forward one blade while the other withdrew. A speed attack. Despite his training and haki, the attacks were coming uncomfortably close, nicks opened across his chest and cheeks, as he narrowly avoided death.

“Wait! Dammit!” Dragon cried again. He was backpedaling to get our other short reach, but trapped on his heels, and unarmed, he had no way to counter her. Her flying blades presented the perfect defense with their sheer aggression, lining her zone with death. One false move and he would be skewered. While he might survive being stabbed, he didn’t want to know what she might be able to do to his insides should she actually get her blade into him. 

While they danced, the lull came to an end and Kriegans appeared behind. She whirled to strike at them, launching another distance attack unique to high-ranking swordsmen. It was slower to execute, compared to the one she used against him, but plenty swift for those without the benefit of inner sight. The thugs coming at her were bunched together, dodging wouldn’t have been possible even if they were capable of reading the attack before it fired. The Kriegans were shredded in the volley but Dragon didn’t wait to see the result. As soon as she spun to face the threat, Dragon launched forward. This would be the only moment he had to invade her zone and land a hit. If screwed up the timing he would just as dead as those fools. He would have to knock her out in one strike. Offer a silent apology for having to strike a woman and hoping he didn’t kill her my mistake, he charged, fist set.

She spun to face him again, her swords arcing to intercept, but he had closed the gap. His fist buried itself into her diaphragm. She coughed, swore, then passed out. Her swords, still spinning to slice him in half, flew from her listless fingers and bounced off his side. He flinched, even with the loss of their wielder’s driving strength the blades were sharp. They cut his shirt and drew blood before they clattered to the ground. Arresting the captain’s fall, less she bounced her head off the cobblestone road, he quickly checked her pulse and felt her ribs, mindful of her feminine dignity. No sign of cracked ribs or crushed organs. He sighed in relief. Strength control was still something he was working on.

Adjusting his hold on the captain, he bent down to pick up her swords. He plucked the first from the ground and then sought its sheath, sliding it in then picked up the second but she only had the one on her side. It was then he noticed the swords only had half a hilt. Dual blades that resided in the same sheath as if they were one. He slid the second next to its sibling, which he had mercifully gotten into the correct hole the first time so it didn’t have the adjust. He grimaced, the blades would need to be removed and cleaned soon before the blood dried and sealed them in. A matter for after they were both safely back in the citadel.

A noise drew his attention and he hissed. The Kriegans were back. He didn’t think he could outrun them while carrying a person, even if she was small, without a head start and he needed more of a gap if he was to have any hope of reaching the city gate. Would it even still be open?

Far too late to worry about that.

Taking a deep breath, as the invaders, realizing the berserker pirate was down, charged forward with more confidence than they had originally approached, Dragon focused his will. He had only ever succeeded in pulling off once before what he was trying to accomplish now. Usually, he just wound up with bloody and cracked knuckles and during those times he didn’t have a mob of murderous pirates bearing down on him. Well, they said haki blooms in the field of battle.

The whispers that had driven him on this fool’s errand cried out once more and his mind cleared. It was as if everything had been drastically slowed even as his time remained the same. He could hear the pulse of the earth as everything else grew silent. Just as he had that one and only time he had made this maneuver succeed. Dragon focused on that pulse and slammed his fist into the ground. The cobblestones broke then, with his shout, the ground before him erupted as if the wind had found itself underground and rushed to escape its unnatural prison. Or like a great dragon waking from centuries of slumber with a great huff.

The men fell back as the cobblestones flew up and pelted them. Dragon rose to his feet, hoisted the unconscious pirate captain’s slight form over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then ran with all his might toward the citadel’s gate.

He didn’t even notice that her oversized purple hat had finally fallen from her head and remained lying in the ruined street. Soon to be trampled by a fresh surge of invading foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wound up being a lot shorter than the previous, but there’s no helping it.
> 
> As always, I appreciate comments left behind by those enjoying the story. Thank you so much!


	5. Hero of Altear Ch 4

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 4:

The hinges were not rusted. Altear had done their maintenance properly, but they could have used a little more oil. The great hinges protested the movement and the cadets struggled to push the doors shut after the last of the rearguard staggered through. They had almost finished, only a space the breadth of two people standing side-by-side could have fit remained, when Prince Oliver hollered from above:

“Hold the door!”

What?! Some of the men from the rearguard peered through the remaining space as the cadets looked at each other in confusion. The men’s eyes widened in shock and they began shouting all at once.

“Hurry up, you stupid Marine!”

“Their right behind him!”

“Come on!”

Lance poked his head around followed by Helgram, then the two young men gaped. Dragon was racing up the road with a body slung over his shoulder. The warrior? He got him? Lance thought in awe. Then he saw what was only a few yards behind him; several platoons worth of nasty looking pirates in hot pursuit, firing their pistols at Dragon’s back. However, luckily for Dragon, hitting something that was running was hard, hitting something that was running while you were running was near impossible. Hitting something while it was running, while you were running and only using one hand to steady a mere pistol? The pirates were just wasting their bullets.

Lance ducked back behind the door. “Get ready to push,” he growled to the others. “As soon as Dragon is through, we slam it shut!”

“Steady!” shouted the Prince from above.

“Close it, cadets!” It was Rear-Admiral Mester. He strode forward as he spoke. “That’s an order. We can’t afford to wait for a fool who can’t follow simple orders.”

“Steady!” Prince Oliver cried, oblivious to the drama unfolding below.

“Prince’s orders, we hold,” retorted Lance gleefully.

“Didn’t Dragon call you out on this three days ago?” asked Helgram as he stared at the door in front of him. “You sent the fleet away knowing they were needed to protect Altear because Altear couldn’t defend itself. Dragon reminded you as much, but still you sent the fleet away. Obviously, that was what they wanted. It was a trap, Rear-Admiral, and you, ignoring policy, fell right into it. Congratulations on losing your pension five years from retirement.”

Lance grinned, just managing to stifle the laugh that threatened to erupt at Helgram’s quip. Seemed Helgram was done brown-nosing. With everything gone to hell, the elitist cadet foresaw the Rear-Admiral’s career coming to a spectacularly fiery end. He’d hardly need to dirty his hands in bringing about the man’s downfall, now. Altear was sure to be making a full and possibly public complaint to Marine Top Brass about this. (Public complaints were harder to ignore.) Helgram probably felt safe to let his true feelings show after weeks of playing good little cadet. 

He sure knows how to stick it and twist it, thought Lance with a snigger.

With the Rear-Admiral having boiled himself, there was no way anyone in high command was going to heed any calls to kick-out a pair of cadets just because they got mouthy. Least of all the children of top tier vice-admirals. Besides, royalty usually got catered to by everyone not a Celestial Dragon anyway. Choosing to heed the Prince while disobeying their superior would not cause a problem. The cadets’ minor insubordination would be swept under the rug. Not great for military chain-of-command in general but this was the ideal time to get away with it.

Lance smiled to himself as he focused on the door, ready to shove as soon as his friend leapt through. This was one time nepotism proved a boon, he wouldn’t have to worry about his friend getting in trouble for his actions and the petty bully of a rear-admiral would be getting the book thrown at him, if not an axe. 

The Rear-Admiral choked on a reply, shocked to discover his favorite pet cadet’s real thoughts about him. The rearguard gleefully went back to cheering Dragon on.

“Now!” shouted the prince from above. Lance, full of faith his highness was of the same mind as the cadets, thrust his shoulder against the door and began pushing it shut again. Helgram and the others following suit. The gate groaned as it began moving again. The opening narrowed to a single person. Where was Dragon? Had he fallen. If he had then the doors needed to be shut and there was no time to look. He kept pushing.

Something flew through the gap that was now slimmer than a man’s shoulders. The rearguard shouted and caught the flying figure. Then Dragon leapt through sideways, landing in an undignified heap on the ground within the gatehouse. Shouts could be heard beyond, but Lance and the others thrust the gate the final inches and it let out a thunderous boom as the two halves met. They felt the impact of bodies hitting the other side, threatening to drive it open. The guards cranked the wheels of the great bolts that were even more reluctant to move than the gate had been. The Marine cadets pressed themselves against the great doors, refusing to yield a millimeter to the enemy beyond. Less injured members of the rearguard joined them, placing hands and backs wherever they could fit. Metal screeched as the bolts slid, revealing the doors were not as shut as they needed to be. If the bolts were driven off their track by even an inch they wouldn’t be able to fit into the corresponding holes on the other side. Lance and the rest shoved harder. Not until they heard the clang of the great bolts striking the back of the locks did they finally ease up.

The gates cried out as a massive thud echoed through the three feet of metal and dust fell down around them. A ram. If that ram had arrived half-a-minute sooner the bolts would have been thrown off their tracks and then it would have been only a matter of time before the gates themselves were driven open. They were three feet in diameter of solid iron, but they were at their most vulnerable just before they reached the locks. Overextended and unsupported, they could have either bent or damaged the exit hole. Repeated ramming would have worsened their condition until the gates opened enough to let the invaders in.

Lance realized he was panting and focused on getting his breathing back under control. He hadn’t just run a marathon sprint, half of it while lugging a body, unlike some daring-do who. He turned to regard at said daring-do. Dragon lay where he had sprawled, gasping for air. One militia member was fanning him while another stood by with a canteen.

Well, that’s a relief, thought Lance. If he done all that without being a little worn out, I would have been left to wonder if he were a demi-god of some kind.

“Hey, that’s the captain of the Sickle Moon Pirates,” said one of the rearguards. “But where’s the rest of her crew?”

Pirate? Her? Lance shifted his attention to the person Dragon had risked himself to save. The rearguard still cradled the diminutive form even after the declaration. Guess no one wants to drop an unconscious woman on the ground even if she is a pirate.

The pirate woman in question had zero feminine characteristics that he could see. She was short, scrawny, with bowl-cut black hair and flat as a washboard, she looked more like an adolescent boy dressed in his dad’s captain’s coat. The coat was stained, and the ends frayed from dragging on the ground. The sleeves’ cuffs were rolled to match the length of her arms and even had safety pins to hold them in place. The formerly red coat, looked more like a burgundy now, had obvious stitches from a less than professional tailoring job to narrow the shoulders so it would stay put when worn. Definitely a hand-me-down or even salvaged from the rubbish bin, though it didn’t appear to be that far gone, but it was amazing what would end up in the garbage when people had money.

Her clothes beneath were better fitting but scarcely in better shape. She wore a red vest but nothing else on her torso, like she needed it with that chest. A belt, that was also too long and looped her narrow waste twice, held up a pair of jeans that were a size too big. The jeans were patched at the knees and worn thin in a few other places. The pant legs clumped at the top of the feet that were covered by a pair of mismatched boots. The only thing she had on her person that was in any kind of good condition was her sword. He knew enough about swords to know it was high grade but that was it. 

The fine sword and her assumed skill were the reasons she was still alive after playing rearguard. Assumed skill since Lance was certain Dragon went out to get the warrior they’d seen wreaking havoc on the Kriegans. Those two things were the only reasons he considered her to be anything other than a broken down, failed pirate. But what kind of pirate fails to afford decent clothing, whether through legit or illegit means, or was that not a priority with her? 

Prince Oliver appeared among the people and studied the pair. “Is this the one that we saw from the ramparts?”

Dragon, still trying to recover his breath, just nodded.

“Remarkable,” stated the prince. “I had heard the captain of the Sickle Moon Pirates was a force to be reckoned with when angered but I never imagined she would be so tiny!”

“Hmph! A pirate! You disobeyed orders, risked your life and the lives of everyone else in this city for a rundown pirate?!” snapped the Rear-Admiral. Everyone glared at the Marine officer, whose own orders had created this entire situation. 

Dragon didn’t bother to justify or defend his decision. He just did what he had wanted to do earlier and gave his commanding officer the one-finger salute with both hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Dragon, when young, would be a bit sassy and impulsive while still having the strong sense of righteousness that would eventually drive him to the forge the Revolutionary Army. 
> 
> It also shows how he and Luffy share more than just a name. In the present day, they don’t seem to have a lot in common, while we can see the blood ties between Luffy and Garp. So I wrote it to show that in his youth, Dragon had some Luffy-like qualities, they’re just not obvious. Like right now he has, poor impulse control, runs on instinct, and has trouble contemplating long-term consequences. And he’s honest to a fault. (Wait I don’t go over that until part 2! Oh well.)
> 
> While Dragon may be the cool and mysterious leader of the Revolutionary Army, he wasn’t always that way. His maturing and experience created the man in the present series. For the sake of Dark Sea, it also shows how similar things cause changes within Luffy. Changes that take him away from the fun-loving adventuring pirate to the mature Pirate King that will eventually lead a ruined world into a brighter future.


	6. Hero of Altear Ch 5

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 5:

The den den mushi were completely useless. They babbled garble and crackling but refused to connect to any others. The only explanation anyone could think of was that the Kriegans had something that jammed the devices. No one had ever heard of such technology before but the Kriegans were one of the most powerful outlaw clans on the high sea outside of the Grandline. They had been around for three generations and had control of several lesser islands. They probably had captured or renegade scientists working for them and a greater need to develop such technology.

But that was something to contemplate another day. What it meant now was that there was no way to recall the fleet or even signal other Marine ships their distress. Realizing, the pirates would take down any single messenger bird that escaped the walls, the King ordered all of them to be given a message and set loose. If the pirates had a means to block den den mushi then they probably hadn’t forgotten about the old-fashioned messenger birds that would be deployed should den den mushi fail for any reason. They had probably brought falcons to strike down the kingdom’s carrier pigeons.

The thought behind releasing all of them was that one of them might be able to escape out to sea. A defense by numbers. If even one of them made it through to another island or Marine vessel the alert would be sounded immediately. They only needed one to survive. This was the best option for a getting a message through the Kriegans’ falcons. They couldn’t have more falcons than the kingdom had carrier pigeons. At least that was their hope. However, this would also leave them with no way to communicate afterwards. It was an all or nothing bet.

The carrier pigeons took flight as a great flock, their first line of defense against the dive-bombing raptors, who wasted no time putting in an appearance. The sheer numbers of the flock would make it dangerous for the falcons to try to snatch an individual from the center, they needed to aim for ones near the edge. That’s when second line of defense kicked in. Pigeons knew their enemy’s pattern of attack, to counter they flew erratically. The cloud of birds warped, contracted, expanded and twisted as the outer exchanged places with the inner in an elaborate dance. The falcons could do nothing but wait for weaker bird to fall back. It looked as if the flock might escape just because it was a flock.

Then the Kriegan’s began firing their shotguns.

The flock was flying low to make use of buildings and trees to further deter the predators which wouldn’t have the stamina to follow them out to sea. The denseness of the flock and low altitude was perfect for bird shot filled shotguns. The flock writhed as feathers exploded. Some birds fell immediately, others struggled through injuries but fell away from the group and were snatched by eager falcons. The pirates, however, were careless with their shots. They continued to fire into the group without calling off their falcons. A few shots took out their own winged servants instead of messengers.

Still the rain of blood and feathers and bodies as the bird flew the gauntlet of death toward open sea was horrifying to watch for the citizens and Marine cadets. They saw themselves in those birds and knew their fate would be little better if the city’s walls were breached. 

The apathetic attitude of the shooters had two consequences. The surviving falcons wisely retreated to their handlers rather than pursue the flock any further. Which meant there was nothing to spot and pick off individual birds that broke free of the flock. The trigger-happy pirates were too focused on the main mass to notice them and probably couldn’t have hit them anyway. It was easy to hunt a flock with shotguns than a single pigeon, that was why they had originally had the falcons.

Two pigeons escaped the bloodshed. 

One a strong, slightly larger than normal male, called Alvin by his handler, managed to outfly the guns by both luck and skill. He winged his way out to sea with his precious message strapped to his leg. Beak pointed in direction of Tir, an island that held another Marine base. It was not the nearest base being several days away. He had been tuned to that island due to his strong wings and high stamina. He had done this flight before at least a dozen times. He knew once he was clear of the land, he was clear of any threats to him that were not of the human variety. He could conserve energy and time by simply flying straight.

The second was smallish female, called Daisy. She rested on the ground beneath a bush that overlooked the farmland the flock had been crossing when the pirates had begun shooting. She had been hit by a pellet and dropped from the unfamiliar and intense pain. Fearing the falcons, she had dove straight for the ground and the only cover it had offered, this lonely little bush, and hid herself amongst its roots. The flock was gone, and she wasn’t sure if the skies were safe. She decided to check on her wound. Despite the pain, she had landed without crashing right where she intended. She opened her wing and blood oozed from the wound, but the bones were intact and nothing major had been damaged. She folded it up again. Still not sure about the sky, she decided to wait a bit and let her injured wing rest and hopefully stop bleeding. 

The fields had held wheat and the harvest had been recent. Stray wheat kernels had been blown by the night wind into the base of the bush. She pecked at them, gorging herself on the free food. She would need the energy to heal and to fly again. She didn’t know where she was going, she hadn’t been tuned to any destination yet. Even if this had been a “all hands-on deck” situation she would not fail her first mission. If she flew out to sea like everyone else, she was sure she would find her destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time out for the pigeons. Everything hinges on them.


	7. Hero of Altear Ch 6

Chapter 6:

The Sickle Moon Pirate captain’s first order of business upon waking up was apparently to hunt down Dragon and slap him off his feet. Which she did with one strike to the amusement of the other cadets and Dragon’s shock. Tiny but strong.

“Why did you drag me here? My crew is dead! I should be dead with them!” she shouted.

Dragon stared at her for a second with his hand unconsciously rising to touch the assaulted cheek. Then he turned angry.

“Because you dying there would serve no one and I saw what you were doing to those boats. It would have been a waste! We’re going to need every fighter we can find. I’m sorry about your crew but dying was not the answer.”

Maryanne scoffed. “As if a Marine would ever be sorry about a pirate captain’s crew. In case you forgot, we’re on opposite sides of the law. You’re supposed to be hunting and executing us yourself.”

“Well we’re on the same side of the wall now, so I can express some sympathy for your loss.”

Lance stared at Dragon as silence fell between the two. That sounded dangerously close to a joke on Dragon’s part and Dragon was not the type to joke. He was serious to a fault. Lance was the one that had dedicated himself to pulling the stick out of his friend’s ass. Which was going to be quite the challenge. From what he had experienced with the young man, that stick was wedged up in their pretty far.

Maryanne snorted and slapped his other cheek, knocking him flat again. Good thing he hadn’t properly climbed back to his feet. He didn’t have as far to go before landing. “You’re a real comedian,” she said in a monotone then stormed away.

“What I say?” demanded the confused young man while rubbing the other cheek, while remaining on the ground. It had sounded like she had made more of a connection with the second strike.

“Dude, think over your conversation. Why you chose now to come up with a zinger of a pun, I’ll never know,” replied Lance. Dragon just looked at him, not understanding and Lance threw up his hands and walked away. Sometimes there was no helping the man.

*************************************

However, Dragon’s unintentional blunder with Maryanne was the only humorous thing to be found in their situation. They were surrounded by Kriegans whom they could only assume were here for the vast wealth that the breadbasket of the West Blue held. Altear was the largest piece of land in all the oceans. If one walked following the shore it could take weeks to return to their starting point. Going across country took days. Horses were required to travel and carry wagons of food to the capital where it was all stored. 

Altear’s landscape was variable and ranged from soaring mountains with year round snow caps, diverse forests that ranged from the conifers in the upper elevations of the mountains to the deciduous trees of the foothills, rolling planes of grass reached to the sea broken only by rivers, farms and villages. Only the northern most reaches held any tropical plants along with a great barrier reef that prevented any ship from making landfall on that side. Altear was the source of seventy-five percent of West Blue’s food. 

Altear’s power hold over the West was the reason the World Government forbade Altear to possess its own standing army. Altear had the ability to feed and fund a rival military power, one that would threaten the World Government’s hold over the region. Not to mention their ability to feed West Blue itself, meant they could force the whole Blue to bend to their will. Most of the other islands could not grow enough to support their populations, though they possessed plenty of mineral wealth to make up for it. Altear didn’t need that wealth, it could live without it, but the islands couldn’t survive without Altear. The World Government thus needed to stay in control of Altear at all times if they wanted to avoid a rival world power.

However, that also meant a threat to Altear was a threat to the entirety of West Blue. If anyone else gained control of Altear, they could force West Blue to do whatever they wanted, and the nations’ mineral wealth would be ideal for weapons crafting. The Kriegans were probably here for the traded wealth or possibly even to take the nation hostage to force the World Government to pay an unheard-of ransom for Altear’s release or face famine and rioting in West Blue. It had happened twice before. It was rumored it was why the Kriegans were one of the most powerful, wealthiest and long-living pirate fleets in West Blue. It was them that had done the first two raids.

It looked like they were seeking a third funding boost.

With volunteer militia that only met and trained once a month on the weekends at best, city guards that were more for maintaining law and order on the shore and a unit of cadets fresh from the Marine academy to defend it, Altear was in dire trouble. The great walls of the citadel were the last line of defense. If they fell, Altear was finished. 

Most of the citizens of the port city were now within the walls. If these walls were breached the only remaining stronghold was the palace itself and there wasn’t room for the people. The citadel was packed as it was. It would have been crowded on any day as this was center of trade for the entire nation, but harvest had just finished, and many farmers, hunters, and traders were in town to trade. People who only came during this time and would have been further inland any other time of the year. The potential loss of life, should the walls fall, was staggering to comprehend. No, the Royals would not abandon their people and hide away in the inner stronghold should the walls fail, they would not abandon their people. Should the walls fail, the King would surrender immediately to all of the Kriegans’ demands.

Citizens that had remained further inland were, without a doubt, racing for inner keeps as a precaution, but the pirates weren’t likely to target them. The keeps were too far inland and often merely the entrance to large underground caverns, much easier to defend from intruders even if they breached the gates. The Kriegans didn’t have horses and every horse had been used in the evacuation, preventing them from acquiring any. They couldn’t traverse the large landscape in pursuit of landlocked refugees. Those people were the safest in Altear. The pirates’ goal was the capital. 

Rams slammed the locked gates. They would hold for now. But everything had a give point. The rams would break through eventually, it was just a question of when, hopefully not before the Marines returned. If they could keep the gates sealed, they would be fine. The militia, guards and cadets could easily prevent the walls from being scaled with diligence and they had enough food to wait out the pirates for months. Even if the messenger birds had not made it through, the Marines would eventually return.

Then the prince gathered every fighter at his disposal regardless of where they hailed from for a war meeting. The cadets and sailors were included, and Maryanne stood among them. She may have been salty over being rescued but Dragon’s words must have hit home. She was going to help their defense. Prince Oliver looked relieved to see her attendance, then he focused on the gathering.

“I believe we can hold them until our fleets return, our engineering chiefs insists they are using the wrong kind of rams to harm our gates inside of a year of constant pounding,” said the prince.

Lance smiled, glad for that bit of good news. Then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. “That seems rather sloppy of them, not to make sure they have the right rams,” he muttered, reluctant to speak his thoughts before his superiors. He, unlike Helgram and Dragon, didn’t have parental protection within the ranks.

“I agree, for an organization as long-lived and successful as they are, you would think they would remember to bring the right rams,” said Dragon in a normal tone that everyone heard.

Lance wondered at Dragon’s gumption sometimes.

“You think so, too,” said the Prince, ignoring the looks his men threw at the cadet for his comment. “I thought so as well, and my captain agreed with me.” He gestured to the gray bearded city guard standing next to him. “I can’t help but feel this was poorly planned.”

“They are pirates after all,” said Helgram with a dismissive wave, as if that explained everything. “Drunk off prior success, perhaps, and not thinking things through like they should.”

“Somehow I find that a pirate group that evolved into a major organization that lasted consecutive generations when most don’t survive the loss of their initial captain would not make such a short-sighted mistake,” said Lance as he rolled his eyes. Helgram glared and whatever newfound respect the pair had found for each other was lost in those seconds. Dragon let out a sigh of resignation.

The prince frowned, the drama between the two cadets going over his head or, more likely, ignoring it since it was irrelevant to the current situation. “It does come across as a rookie move. And this is not their first attack on this citadel before. We’ve improved since the initial two invasions, but this doesn’t seem to even acknowledge the strategies of those successes.”

“Don’t cities this big have an elaborate sewer system?” said Maryanne. She wrinkled her nose. “It certainly doesn’t smell like its lacking anything less than the latest in indoor plumbing technology.”

“How good are the defenses in the sewers?” asked Dragon, realizing what the pirate captain was getting at. 

Lance wished he had paid closer attention to how waste was disposed of at the academy. He only recalled it had been rather convenient, especially compared to the chamber pot system in his home village. He had not wanted to stick out any more than he already did as a recruit from a poor village by asking about such things. Fortunately, Dragon and Maryanne seemed to have an idea what they were talking about.

The gruff captain of the guards replied, “The tunnels are numerous but narrow, and run deep underground to open up further out underwater. We have a fan system the forces the water to flow out the tunnel even though the pipe is exposed to seawater. Grates guard the areas below the wall.”

“I can’t imagine those grates aren’t potential dams. You must have access to clean them and clear the tunnels of backed up debris,” said Dragon.

“Dragon! Stop acting like an interrogator, you’re just a cadet!” snapped the Rear-Admiral.

“I will allow it!” snapped the Prince in return, glaring at Mester. “Not asking questions of the obvious is probably how you made the error of letting our fleet get lured away. Honestly! Seeing such an inquisitive mind among these youngsters is reassuring after their commanding officer bumbled his responsibilities. I will not allow you to smother their thinking. We need more free-thinking men among the Marines, to counter the corrupt and the incompetent that your precious Order Absolute breeds and protects!”

The Rear-Admiral flinched back and ground his teeth. He was only at that meeting because the Prince didn’t trust him to wait anywhere where he wasn’t being supervised, and the Prince had said as much when he called the meeting. 

Lance, smelling blood, decided to do some knife twisting of his own. In a voice meant to be heard he said, “And Dragon did question that decision, too… and got reprimanded for doing so.”

Silence ticked for several seconds as everyone, reminded of the Rear-Admiral’s full incompetence, glared as one with naked contempt at the man, who, in turn, looked like he was caught between the desire to shoot Lance and sink into the floor. Lance caught sight of Helgram smirking. Dragon on the other hand looked like he wished everyone would move on.

Guess he’s not the type to harp on past mistakes once they’ve been dealt with, thought Lance. Or he just doesn’t see the point of it. What a sweet guy.

Then he thought about it some more. Or perhaps Dragon didn’t like all the attention he was receiving every time someone brought it up. Yeah, that was probably it.

******************************

The Prince eyed the man coolly then glanced back at the cadets. While most seem the usual type, ones that would never aspire to more than the lower ranks and were there for the paycheck, a few showed potential. 

The one with the long slate gray hair tied in a braid seemed to possess the same arrogant attitude as all troublesome officers, but there was a cool intelligence in his eyes that indicated a schemer. One that plotted an enemy’s demise while engaging in small talk with that very person. It was a little troubling as schemers often grew to become trouble for entirely different reasons. 

Then there was the brown-haired youth that liked to joke around but seemed to possess an understanding of the intricacies of politics. 

Finally, of course there was the black-haired youth, that the imbecile Mester had called Dragon, with forward personality, strong will and reckless impulses. Each one held potential to be a force of great good and climb the ladder of authority. If they could just maintain their current idealism as they ascended, they could change the current heading of the Marines. 

That being said, the Prince had seen countless potential bearing youth come through Altear only to be ground into dust and jaded beyond compassion by their actions of their superiors. He would need to give these cadets some special attention before the Marines could destroy their good will and idealism. To give them tools to stand strong in the face of all that corruption. None of the previous had remained in Altear long enough nor had reason to be approached by the Prince. He could do nothing to influence them. Perhaps that had been intended. With the siege, however, he might have time to do just that.

“There are ways to access the grates and the fans for such maintenance,” replied the captain of the guard, breaking the awkward silence that had formed.

“What about smugglers? Every big city has them,” asked Maryanne. 

The captain gave her a wiry smile as the Prince stifled a snort. Trust the criminal to notice the criminal origins of a defense’s weak point. “Because, we do expect smuggling, we have an extra set of grates that are pulled into place in the event of an invasion so the smugglers can remove the regular grates without leaving us vulnerable. They’re very polite about it and will even clean the grates for us. We can always tell which tunnels they are using after a while because those tunnels won’t get backed up.”

The Prince noticed the brown-haired cadet hastily covering his mouth, his body shaking, probably to suppress a laugh. It was amusing once you heard it out loud. Altear had always been very practical in its approach to the black market. The guards made a game of running them out of the tunnels they occupied, and the smugglers moved to another set where they could make their runs for a few months before their path was revealed. The change in venue usually occurred around the time an unused set of tunnels needed some extra special attention.

“I have already dispatched our men to properly seal off the tunnels, so any attempts to use the smuggler’s path isn’t going to work,” continued the captain of the guards. “Though, they may not have realized that from their research. The smugglers would not want to ruin their relationships with us by outing their routes to non-smugglers. They know if they betray Altear they could lose more than their business and it won’t necessarily be us taking it from them.”

“How deep are the tunnels running beneath the wall?” asked Dragon. The Prince smiled, eager to start work on such a dedicated cadet. He was already acting like a commanding officer should. At any other time, this would be an inappropriate breach of boundary, but the Rear-Admiral and his personal assistant were the only Marine Officer left at Altear after the fleet was dispatched, and the prince was loathed to trust either after this fiasco. The lead cadet was the next highest of the Marines. Even if including the Marines was more ceremonial because it was just two officers and a handful of cadets, but protocol was everything with the World Government when it favored them.

“Fifty feet, so placing explosives would be equally pointless,” said the captain of the guard. Anticipating the cadet’s next thought he added, “It’s through bedrock. The sewers were a marvel of modern ingenuity when they were created because of how difficult it was. There aren’t any explosives that can break through fifty feet of rock to collapse the walls above. The walls are thick, and the ground will not crumple that easily. All they would wind up doing is sealing off that tunnel.”

“Maybe that was what they were counting on, and we’re just one step ahead,” said the Prince relieved. “Not bad plans, they were just missing some critical information, that’s all.”

The black-haired cadet continued to look bothered but said nothing more. The Prince eyed the young man again. He certainly wanted to speak with him some more in the days to come. The was an aura around him that made him stand out in the Prince’s eyes, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was precisely he was detecting.

It was just the first day of what would become known at the Siege of Altear and it would last for three weeks. Unfortunately, it would not remain as benign as originally predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is a bit of a recap on Altear’s significance and the Kreigans but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.


	8. Hero of Altear Ch 7

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 7:

Alvin arrived at the Marine base in Tir, exhausted and dangerously thin after his harrowing flight. The keeper of the birds noticed his wobbly flight pattern as Alvin forced himself to stay in the air even though all the poor bird wanted was to stop and let gravity claim him. The keeper reached out and Alvin landed gratefully in his outstretched palms. He couldn’t tell the human of his ordeal, of the lost wing mates or urgent mission. All he could do was coo and lay on those hands. The keeper took the carrier pigeon into the aviary and set him on a nest with bird seed already poured into a small tray. Alvin roused himself enough to peck at the food and dip his beak into the water in the container next to it. The keeper, satisfied his charge was well attended to, then turned his attention to the message capsule and pulled the tiny slip of paper from it.

When the keeper read what it contained, he rushed to his commanding officer with the news. Against all odds, Alvin had arrived at Tir with the all-important message a mere five days after he had been dispatched. His mission was a success, the lives of his many wing mates would not have died in vain.

Unfortunately for him and Altear, Tir’s commander was already bought.

**********************************

Daisy eyed the sky for murderous falcons, but the raptors were not out. There was no reason for them to be with all the messenger birds killed five days prior. She flapped her wings, they felt strong, the tiny pellet having worked its way out of the wound it created with her determined beak. The wound itself was now closed and didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Good!

Daisy still had the message capsule on her leg. She was pleasantly plump from all the grain she had fed upon in the last five days, her wings strong and well rested, she was ready to try again.

She burst from the bush and headed for the open sea with single minded determination. She didn’t know where she was going but she was sure she would know when she saw it.

Little did this small, untried carrier pigeon know that she alone was all Altear had left to raise the alarm beyond their shores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided the pigeons should have their own standalone chapter rather than connect it to any other. Which means this one was really short.
> 
> The delay in these postings was due to the fact I was moving, and this is the soonest that there has been a pause in all the chaos for me to attend to these chapters.
> 
> Big thanks to RevProalpha for leaving a whole lot of comments on my various works. I hope to hear from you again soon!


	9. Hero of Altear Ch 8

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 8:

Dragon stared out at the town beyond the wall. What are they waiting for? he wondered. The failure of their plans should have revealed themselves to the Kriegans’ Matriarch by now. Why were they still here? Once the city had successfully sealed itself the siege would be in Altear’s favor, time solidly on their side. As overcrowded as they were, supplies were not an issue. They could wait months, the Kriegans couldn’t. So why did they remain? They were up to something, Dragon was sure, but what he had no idea. 

The sewers were his first thought, and the most obvious point of weakness in any walled city, but these were too well built, maintained, and even guarded to ever be a breach point. Dragon was too inexperienced to think of an alternative that the Kriegans might try for. He really had no idea what they could be scheming, he just knew, by their continued presence, that they had a scheme.

Sieges were a waiting game with lots of tension and not much action once in progress… and no resolution. That’s what made them so frustrating to those with no patience. At least with battle there was a swift resolution. Instead, the whole attack was dragged out for days, weeks, maybe even months if the sieged and attacker were unlucky. Both sides generally suffered in a siege unless the ones doing the siege had a steady supply and no enemies to worry about coming behind them.

Dragon knew time was on his side, but he felt the itch of impatient youth clawing at him. He had never before felt the urge to jump down the wall, again, and batter ram his way through the legions of murderous thugs waiting below as strongly as he did now. To just cut loose with unrestrained violence until no enemies remained standing. To just stamp them out of existence and bring this whole mess to an end. It was nearly overwhelming and the siege was not even a week old. 

Arrogance and folly. His head knew that well. One man was not going to resolve this, much less a mere eighteen-year-old cadet fresh out of Naval Academy. Dragon fought the suicidal urge down as much as possible. He knew better than to give in to such impulses. His father had brought his “Fist of Tough Love” down on him several times in his youth for not curbing his impulses better. Which said something about Dragon’s childhood self that even his poor impulse-control father thought him stupidly impulsive.

Yes, his head knew the lesson well. Dragon subconsciously rubbed the top of it as a phantom throb pulsed from his father’s favorite target. Then there was his mother’s quiet disapproval. Somehow that was so much worse, to have her looking at him like he was her greatest disappointment, that quiet sigh as she mentally lowered her expectations for him. Mercifully, he had only ever earned that look once. 

That day he had decided to take on two pirate ships that had dropped anchor outside of Goa. His ten-year-old self had thought it would be fun to take on real pirates instead of harassing the beasts of the forest, who were in sore need of respite from being his punching bags for weeks on end as part of his Marine training. 

He had done fairly well for himself in the resulting brawl, fairly well when one considered the success rate for a knee-high ten-year-old armed with nothing but a lead pipe going to battle with dozens of grown men armed with every handheld weapon known to mankind plus a random bazooka. It had been a good thing that his father’s friend had spied him heading for the ships, lead pipe in hand and mad gleam in eye with matching grin, and got the word to his father. Dragon had managed to take down most of them before getting snagged, but the moment he was caught he was in serious danger. 

In hindsight he probably should have just smashed the bazooka instead of abandoning his pipe in favor of trying to use it in some variation of ironic justice. While one of his shots did manage to destroy one of the pirate’s ships, the rest had just impacted the forest area, ocean and even the constable’s headquarters within the city. The forests still bore the scars of his poor aim and control. To say the captains and crews of both ships were pissed was an understatement. The lucky bastards of the second ship had been on deck and blown off when the shot hit rather than blown up. They had then swam over to the first ship and boarded her, thinking they had been attacked by the first group Dragon was in the midst of attacking. 

This would have been the most ideal time to flee or at least change tactics during the initial chaos caused when the two crews began fighting each other, however, Dragon, battle mad, had remained and continued trying to hit the men in front of his with his new favorite weapon. The fact that he had hit everything not onboard the ship rather than the crew openly charging him should have been his first clue that a bazooka was not meant for melee fighting. Though, he had successfully, if accidentally, tricked the two crews into fighting with each other, he thoroughly bungled the advantage this gave him by not abandoning the bazooka and ducking out of sight to ambush the men while they cut each other down.

It took only another wild shot, the one that went on to hit the constables’ headquarters, for the crews cease trying to kill each other and unite to come after him. Less than a minute later he was caught. The impromptu alliance ended as soon as Dragon was tied to the mast. The captains of both ships wanted the right to torture the impertinent boy to death. Neither would share the pleasure. The delay caused by their dueling had been the only reason Dragon had lasted long enough for his father to arrive. 

Garp had been happily at home and not tormenting Dragon, as was his want when on leave, because he was too busy cooing over the newest addition to the family. To say his father was upset having to drag himself away from his youngest to save the oldest was an understatement. He focused most of his wrath on the hapless pirates for daring to threaten his boy, but Dragon was not spared. Most of the bruises he came home with that day had been dealt by his father not the pirates.

The constables’ headquarters? The bazooka belonged to the pirates; his father didn’t even have to speak before the pirates were immediately blamed for all the damage. Which was good because neither Garp nor Dragon could lie to save their lives. That would have been a pretty penny they would have had to pay to rebuild the headquarters if the city knew the truth. Luckily the constables weren’t eager to ask questions and just blame the pirates, since they would have to then explain why no one was in the building manning the front desk or doing tedious paperwork. (Hint: a new gambling house, complete with strip dancers, had opened up just last week.)

When his mother had heard about what happened, after the two had returned home, she had given him that look of profound disappointment and simply said, “Try to accurately access the risk of an operation before taking it on next time. Your father won’t always be around to save you from your miscalculations.”

Dragon leaned on the ramparts and glared at the Kriegan ships that sat in the harbor, unaware of the impatient drumming of his fingers on the stone. The siege was giving him way too much time to think and recall things he’d rather not recall.

“Do something, already!” his inner self screamed at the pirates. 

The pirates couldn’t hear him, and wouldn’t care about his opinion of how they were conducting their siege even if they could. They had their plans and would just thumb their nose and invite an impatient cadet to come down for a row if he was bored.

To kill time and try to be somewhat productive, Dragon had forced himself away from the wall to research information on the Kriegans. His mother always stated information was vital to conducting a successful campaign. Especially information regarding the actions of an enemy. If one could deduce the reason behind those acts, they could predict their next act. A lesson she had spent a great deal of time drumming into him after his fateful encounter with the two pirate ships. He needed to understand this enemy so he could figure out what their next move was. 

It was frustrating, though. The extensive records that would include the Kriegans could only be found in the information archive of Marine Headquarters located on the Grandline. Which was as disorganized as it was old. He had been inside those archives a few times thanks to his family ties, but it was sad to see what should have been an indispensable depositor of valuable military history and battle tactics reduced to a worm eaten, dust collecting mess due to neglect. That just showed how much the World Government cared about maintaining accurate records.

The military records his family carried at the home estate were maintained and protected. They were also taboo, if the World Government knew there was a place outside of the fabled records of Marie Geoise that kept accurate records of what actually happened, both military and political, the place would probably be burned or at least confiscated. The World Government liked to fabricate history in their favor. An accurate accounting of all their actions and, especially, their dirty deeds where it might be read by the general public was unwelcomed.

His grandfather had declared once, to his grandson, that politics were just as damning as an army and possibly even more so. Knowing the politics of the time would give you even more information on how multiple opponents would react. His grandfather was a despicable jerk, hated by the entire family for his domestic actions, but he knew the military inside and out and had great pride in it. His sharp mind, and stubborn refusal to yield his seat, was the only reason he remained the Commander-in-Chief of the military. However, things were degrading around him. The Marines hadn’t really started becoming corrupt until his illness had robbed him of his mobility. There was only so much one could do from an office. 

The aging Commander-in-Chief, Bernardino, wanted Dragon’s father, Garp to take his seat but Garp was just a Vice-Admiral and only the Fleet Admiral could inherit the seat. Two ranks above Vice-Admiral. Kong was the one that held the title of Fleet Admiral but that was unacceptable to Bernardino. He blamed his son’s lack of ambition for the current situation.

The clan, however, blamed Bernardino. For nearly eight hundred years, it had been the one baring the title Baron Goldenrei that had held the position Commander-in-Chief. The Barony, the title, the family name always went to the one that proved himself in the Marines and rose to the rank of Fleet Admrial through merit alone. This technically could go to any member of the family who was in the Marines. A cousin, a nephew or a grandson, not just a son. In fact, the heir didn’t technically need to be male, just a devoted high-ranking Marine that was a model of justice. Bernardino had insisted on his son inheriting everything.

However, Bernardino’s wife had four daughters. Infuriated, he had courted many women, some not so nicely, to try to create a son. Garp was the youngest, born to an unwed tavern owner in Goa. But Bernardino had had a suitable heir. His second born daughter of his wife, had gone into the Marines and made history by ascending the ranks even after she lost her right arm in battle and becoming an admiral. The first woman to do it. She ultimately lost her life in a battle she should never had fought but had done so as a futile attempt to get her father to acknowledge her as his heir. The clan saw her as the true heir and were furious with Bernardino for driving her to her death. They had no sympathy for his current plight.

Garp hated his father with a passion. The man had stolen him from his mother when he was ten and may have even killed her. Garp’s mother had not wanted her son to go away with the hated Fleet Admiral. No one knew what had happened to Dragon’s grandmother only that she had disappeared soon after Bernardino had taken custody of Garp. Bernardino had then put Garp through military training that made what Dragon endured growing up look like a cake walk, all in an effort to recreate his daughter, Kaguya, the original Hero of the Marines, in the preferred male body. Garp was not Kaguya and Garp had suffered for it.

Still the man knew military and Dragon understood that to understand the Kriegans’ plans he needed to understand the Kriegans and their history. He first tried base records, but the base only maintained records for five years. After that it was either disposed of or transferred to Headquarters to be lost in the archives.

Dragon lamented the lack of information on the Kriegans, who operated over years instead of weeks like other organized pirates. That only made this attack’s current standing bizarre just from that knowledge alone. Lance agreed with Dragon, even though he was the least knowledgeable of all the cadets on these things. But that was the result of his upbringing and not his fault. Helgram, who should have known better, given his family’s Marine history, was dismissive, denouncing it as pointless. He apparently painted all pirates with a single brush and wouldn’t move from that fatal viewpoint. The rest of the cadets just lacked motivation. They were cadets, let the officers figure this out and just do as ordered.

Sigh. Those cadets were never going to obtain an officer’s rank with that attitude. Future grunts to be handed a musket and thrown on the frontline of whatever field of battle appeared. And probably to die there.

“Think any harder and smoke will pour out your ears.’

Dragon started as a voice broke him from his inner thoughts. He turned and saw Lance grinning at him from his right. Dragon grunted in irritation then turned back to scowling at the distant ships as if he could burn a hole through their hulls if he stared long enough.

“Frustrated you aren’t finding answers?” asked Lance. Dragon grunted again; he didn’t feel like talking.

Lance seemed willing to talk for the both of them, however. “I somehow doubt an answer is going to present itself by staring at a bunch of ships any more than tearing through the base’s diminutive archive did.”

Dragon glared, his fuse unreasonable short, the urge to pick a fight seeking a more accessible target with the Kriegans’ that were physically and mentally out of reach. “Well, they aren’t out there to sun bathe. So what the hell are they doing now that the gate is sealed?”

“Probably enacting whatever scheme is going to get them over or through the walls,” said Lance with a straight face. Which meant the young man was fully aware he was stating the obvious.

That knowledge didn’t stop Dragon’s surge of anger. He slammed his fist against the rampart. “Anyone could figure that part out but what are they scheming?”

Lance didn’t flinch back from Dragon’s flash of temper but looked at him like he was waiting for a storm to pass. Dragon realized what he was doing and slammed his forehead against the rampart to try drain some of the blood from it. He was never at his best when he got this hot.

“I can’t help but think that is the least productive thing to do,” Lance said.

“Would you rather it be your head I slammed into the rampart?” asked Dragon while his face remained against the cold rock.

Lance didn’t respond and Dragon stood straight again, blood dribbling down his face from the self-inflicted wound, with an exasperated sigh. “Ah! The one time I want to go to Basarol and it’s the one I can’t.” 

Lance passed him a handkerchief to dab the blood leaking from his forehead. “What’s in Basarol?”

“A really nice archive with accurate records that are kept in good condition,” replied Dragon as he held the cloth to his bleeding forehead.

“So we just need to break the siege so we can go to another island to find information on how to break the siege, right?” Lance asked in voice that made is clear he was not to be taken seriously. “Sounds like a plan!”

“Maybe it would be more productive to slam your head into the rampart,” snarled Dragon as he pressed the cloth a little harder.

At that moment, a grappling hook topped the ramparts and hooked the stone. Both cadets stared at it, one in amusement, the other in annoyance. The pirates had occasionally been firing grappling hooks up the sides of the wall in an attempt to scale them. A rather stupid move as even a light watch would notice the hooks if they managed to catch and cut the line with halberds that easily reached below the protective chain portion of the line to cut the rope. 

Seeing he now had access to an appropriate victim to vent his pent-up frustrations, Dragon grabbed the grappling hook and yanked with all his might. The hapless fools that had begun to climb once it hooked, came flying up from the sudden violence of Dragon’s pull. Lance whistled as three foul looking swashbucklers flew high enough to clear the rampart. They hovered in that moment of suspension as upward momentum died staring at the youths before gravity reclaimed them and dragged them back down. They tried to defy it, arms swinging wildly as if they could suddenly gain the ability to fly or swim through air. One managed to snag the ramparts but the other two screamed as they plunged back down.

Dragon reached over and grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him up and over. “I don’t fathom a lout like you would know what your bosses are really trying to achieve here, do you?” he asked, and the man began to sweat as he realized he could wind up joining his comrades if he didn’t answer the Marine’s question.

The man babbled a negative, insisting he didn’t know of any schemes.

Lance leaned against the rampart with his arms crossed and said, “Best be honest; my friend is in a really foul mood today and you are a pirate trying to invade this city. I wouldn’t exactly lose any sleep if he just pushed you back over. But if you cooperative…”

“I… I… I-I… I really don’t k-know anything! Honest!” cried the terrified pirate. Dragon couldn’t help but notice the man rolled his eyes away when he said that.

“Then you are no use to me, and we don’t have the food or space to waste on you,” said Dragon and began shoving the man back over the rampart.

“No! No! Please!” pleaded the man as he gabbed at Dragon’s arm and stone rampart, desperately searching for a grip on anything that would keep him from going over, his eye going wild with the immediate advent of his death.

Dragon felt his blood rise again. The image of the woman Pirate Captain surrounded by the bodies of her murdered crew, the fleeing citizens, the ruined town below. How many people pleaded for their lives like this only for this man to cut them down like they were nothing? Dragon’s grip began to loosen as he resolved to let him plummet to his death.

“You caught one! Excellent work, Cadet.”

Dragon clenched his hand on reflex as his dark thoughts were interrupted by a gentle but authoritative voice. He glanced over while the man remained precariously perched and unwilling to do anything that might endanger his own existence.

Prince Olivier stood two yards away with two guardsmen at his side. “I was thinking I should start letting them reach the top, just so I can question a few of them about the Kriegans’ plans. Seems we were of like mind.”

The guardsmen stepped forward and Dragon dragged the man the rest of the way over the rampart. The disgusting toady began sobbing in relief. He didn’t stop even as he was cuffed by the guards and hauled away.

The Prince smiled at Dragon as the guards and prisoner departed. “If he knows anything, the interrogators will get it out of him. Though, I suspect anyone that was being permitted to try their luck in scaling the wall would not be privy to such critical information but, then again, mistakes do happen.”

The Prince then turned to regard the ocean’s horizon and silence descended on the three. After a minute the Prince Olivier spoke again.

“You shouldn’t let scum like him tarnish your ideals.”

“Your Majesty?” asked Dragon, in confusion.

“You were about to drop him. More because he pleaded for mercy when he was of the variety that don’t give it than because he was refusing to answer your question.” The Prince continued to look out to sea.

Dragon felt a flush of shame spread through him at the Prince’s calm words.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” said Lance, drawing the Prince’s gaze. “While I have no problem showing high morals to those with morals, even when they are enemies. I fail to see how being ‘better than the enemy’ is somehow better when the person would just use your mercy to stab you in the back at a later date, or at least go on to kill many others when you could have ended it all right there.”

“That’s an interesting viewpoint. I can’t say I can argue with it, in theory, anyway. It does make sense to not show mercy to those who give none,” replied the Prince, his expression not the least bit troubled. Then he frowned as he said the next part. “But where does the line get drawn. How do you know the enemy in front of you is one with moral or one without? When are you merely stopping a killer and when are you the killer? It’s easy to make such excuses to be immoral, not so easy to keep from taking the easy but dark path.”

Lance smiled and shrugged. “I guess that why lines exist in the first place. Because most people can’t make that distinction, so a harder boundary has to exist.”

“And then there are those who should never cross that line, for they may become what they fight against,” whispered Dragon. He clenched his fist. It would have been so easy for him and some part of it had enjoyed the man’s terror. He turned to face the Prince and bowed his head. “Thank you for your assistance, Your Majesty.”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Okay, note to self, if Dragon starts crossing lines, shove him back.”

“You seemed to be distracted a little earlier and working through some frustration,” said the Prince, changing the subject. “Tell me, what’s bothering you, young cadet?”

Dragon’s cheeks flushed and looked away as he tried to decide how much to tell the Prince. Then he sighed and confessed, “I lack action and information. I want to know more about the Kriegans to try and figure out their strategy, but I just don’t know enough and the military library on base is woefully lacking.”

“If that’s all, then why don’t you come and use my kingdom’s military library,” said the Prince with a smile. “It may only deal with things here in West Blue, but that’s all you need to have if it’s just the Kriegans you are trying to understand.”

“Really?!” both cadets said in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wound up being super long and there was no way to break it up.
> 
> This goes more into Dragon’s family history as well as his own personal history while exploring more of his personality. It also has a subtle piece of information that will be critical in one of the 2nd to last Part of Mark of the Wind.
> 
> All of the history is my head cannon. I reuse that head cannon between all my One Piece fics if it doesn’t argue with the story I’m writing. The mentioning of Kaguya is much more important for the Fire Prince series than Dark Sea Chronicles, and I don’t think it will even be mentioned in Storm Warning. 
> 
> Just a reminder, I do reuse characters, as well as history, across the three series but they could wind up with slightly different personalities depending on what the story calls for. But these three series, Dark Sea Chonicles, Fire Prince and Storm Warning are not interlinked. In Fire Prince, Ace wasn’t even at Marineford so he was never even in danger of being killed. In Storm Warning, Ace survives being hit by Akainu’s lava fist. In Dark Sea Chronicles it follows the cannon storyline until chapter 900 of the manga, so Ace is very dead and does not come back.
> 
> Fire Prince is very much an Ace story.  
> Dark Sea Chronicles is a Luffy story.  
> Storm Warning kind of follows Ace but also Sabo and possibly Dragon as well as some OC’s. Yes, Luffy gets very much ignored in it except toward the end. (Storm Warning is threatening to balloon out of control with all the ideas that are springing from it. So I’m beginning to develop an original story to cyphon all these ideas over to. We’ll see how it goes.)
> 
> What’s happening to Storm Warning is the reason why Shadow Storm has not been written. Shadow Storm is very dependent on what the actual plot is for the overall series and I need to work out those details before I can continue. Probably it focuses on two OC’s and their motivations and developments with Sabo running around in the background.


	10. Hero of Altear Ch 9

Mark of the Wind: Part 1  
Hero of Altear  
Chapter 9:

Prince Olivier led the young men to the country’s library located near the palace, stating they could come anytime they wanted to study up on Military History and Tactics. The walls had the necessary manning without Marine aid and the cadets were just extras. The Prince had no issue with having them use the lull of the siege to study instead of staring at ships while occasionally severing ropes.

Dragon and Lance ran into Helgram as the Prince led them away. Lance eagerly explained to the mildly curious gray-haired youth where they were going. The Prince even extended the invitation to him but Helgram waived them away. He did not become a Marine to waste his time perusing dusty old tomes of bygone battles. Dragon felt slightly irked at his fellow cadet’s dismissive attitude, but the Prince shrugged it off and continued on toward the library. 

Prince Oliver’s attitude toward Helgram’s rudeness was just another odd trait for an aristocrat. Every royal Dragon had encountered before, and he had the misfortune of encountering quite a few, would have been offended over someone refusing an invitation they had extended, no matter what reason was given nor how politely it was conveyed. The Goldenrei Barony was, unfortunately, old, large and of great influence in the world. The presence of the head of house and his immediate family at Reverie was always demanded. Dragon’s aunts had married out of the family and thus were spared having to participate in the Festival of Entitlement and Egos. 

Bernardino always managed to roll in with Garp and family in tow, the joy of living at headquarters and there being elevators next door. They didn’t actually participate in the discussions of the nations; however, many credited the lack of war these past few decades between the allied nations due to his presence. No one wanted to draw the ire of the Iron Fist of Basarol who possessed the ability to strike paralysis of the lungs to any who fell beneath his disapproving gaze. On top of that, there was so much tension between father and son that the royals could never muster the will to raise their voice above a strangled whisper. Dragon was convinced his family was being used as peace enforcers.

Helgram’s brazen refusal of the Prince’s invitation, especially in such a dismissive and insulting manner, could resulted in a massive disciplinary hearing at best, an execution at worst with anyone else. He was a cadet in the Marines and a member of a younger barony that didn’t have a quarter of the influence of the Goldenrei’s. Something Helgram should have been aware of given his upbringing, or had the Prince’s lax attitude emboldened the cadet? Dragon didn’t know, he hadn’t seen Helgram interact with aristocrats before, perhaps he hadn’t been raised to be respectful of their ranks because baronies typically married nobles once they reached a certain stature. Sometimes members of baron clans got it in their heads that they were equal to other nobles and weren’t as careful as commoners needed to be. Gods knew he had run across a few amongst his cousins that were full of themselves.

However, the royalty of this country did seem prone to not acting like the royalty of other countries, particularly Goa, his father and his homeland. There the royals of Goa would treat even the nobles as if they were commoners. No way would they have put up with Helgram’s disrespectful attitude. Dragon found he liked Altear’s easy going, one-of-the-people attitude. It was a pity more were not like them.

Dragon’s family had an estate in West Blue but he, like his father, had been born and raised in distant Goa. While his father, Garp, was understandable, that was the home of Garp’s mother, the only reason Dragon had been born and raised in Goa was because his father was trying to stay as far away as possible from his father, Dragon’s grandfather. This was the closest Dragon had been to his patriarchal homeland since joining the Marines. Despite his earlier comment regarding their library, he wasn’t at all interested in returning. 

The island may have held his entire extended family but the main household itself only had servants present to run it and keep the oversized mansion and property maintained. His grandfather was too ill to travel and stayed in Marine Headquarters to better monitor the military he controlled, refusing to retire until his chosen heir was in a position to take his place. 

Bernardino had declared his son could not live in the family estate until he had at least achieved the rank of Fleet Admiral. The aging Commander-in-Chief desperately wanted his son to hurry up and take control of the military and thought forcing Garp to live elsewhere would motivate the man.

Hah! 

Dragon’s father wanted nothing to do with the Barony and was content to live in his rather posh place in Goa Kingdom. His status as a Vice-Admiral alone could have qualified him for a place in High Town, but just getting the large house and handful of employees to help run it in the commoner’s part of town was as high as he wanted to go. High Town was full of self-centered scumbags anyway according to his father and he wanted nothing to do with them. Then there were the egotistical royals that made life hell for their nobles. They were still in a wealthy area, but it was just the regular town, safely outside the reach of Goa’s elite. 

Considering how much Garp didn’t care about wealth or social status, there was only one reason the man didn’t purchase something less flashy than a manor. Not that his home was flashy by any stretch of the imagination. It was as humble as could be while remaining respectable within that section of wealth. Garp still would have chosen something more modest and probably away from town if he were just concerned with his wants. No, there was just one reason, one very important reason, that forced him to acquire a manor in the wealthy neighborhoods of Goa.

His wife. 

Bernardino had made Garp marry a woman of his choosing before setting him loose in the Marines and Dragon’s mother was a nobleman’s daughter. A minor noble and younger daughter but a noble none the less. Dragon forgot what country she initially came from if he had ever been told. He didn’t even know the family she was born to, never mind met any of his maternal relatives. However, due to her status, there was no way Garp could get anything humbler than that wealthy merchant mansion for his wife. 

One of Garp’s virtues that Bernardino took full advantage of was that Garp had been raised to respect woman by his mother, a woman Garp loved, respected, and missed even to this day. She would not approve of her son abandoning his wife no matter the circumstances. If Dragon’s father had been planning to run out to sea when Bernardino finally let him loose in the Marines, they were abandoned the moment he found himself before the alter making his vows.

From what Dragon understood, their wedding day was the first day his parents had ever met, and the wedding had been a surprise to his father. Still thoroughly under Bernardino’s thumb, Garp had no way to refuse then. With that, his shackles were welded into place around his ankles. Dragon was born nine months later finishing the job. Garp would never abandon his wife, much less abandon the mother of his child as well as his child. With all the risk of Garp fleeing gone, Bernardino finally eased up his stranglehold on his son, allowing Garp to recover enough daring to defy the man. Even if all his defiance amounted to no more than him refusing to be promoted higher than Vice-Admiral. Or living half a world away from his family’s estate.

His mother never said anything about having to live among commoners instead of in Hightown with the other nobles. She didn’t laze about demanding the servants tend to her every whim while bemoaning her fate. She didn’t run off to socialize and gossip with the other ladies of leisure, participating in the cutthroat politics that only the female elite could execute. No, she stayed home and ran the manor like a business. Her social circle included merchant wives and daughters, and all their discussions were on the trade surrounding the harbor. She even invested in some of the others’ ships, earning them a little extra protection from the Marines and a little less attention from the customs officers. 

Now that he thought about it, she was a rather strange noble herself. Maybe it was the younger daughter of a lesser noble part that made her reasonable. She never made demands but never expressed her emotions either. It seemed she had been schooled to remain stern and serious or coldly serene at all times. Perfect for all those social games that women of politics engaged in, a bit off putting until you got to know her anywhere else. 

However, his father had occasionally tickled a small half smile from her from time to time with his antics. In turn, Garp’s wild behavior would vanish when she was in his presence and he was the model Marine, behavior wise. He actually remembered how to speak with discretion and refinement. Growing up, that was the only way he knew his father to speak when he wasn’t barking orders. So, when Dragon entered the Marines, it had been a bit of shock when he finally got to meet the loud, obnoxious, no filter man that everyone else was familiar with.

It had taken a while for Dragon to reconcile the night and day difference in behavior. He could only conclude that the fates had smiled on his father and blessed him with a wife that found him charming and that he at least liked and very much respected in return. Their language of love was subtle rather than flamboyant. Her small smiles, the only emotion she had ever allowed herself to show to anyone. His quiet and thoughtful words, a nod to her gentler upbringing. Considering their first meeting was at the alter it probably wasn’t a surprise that his parents were quiet when it came to each other. They never got to experience the passion of courting and were making the best of a not-so-great situation.

His mother supported her husband from day one and absorbed the Barony’s code of honor and justice views like she had been born to it, tossing aside her birth family, never mentioning them even once. She had networked with the scattered family, contacting his twenty-one aunts and numerous cousins. Installing herself into the family dynamics of a divided clan and helping them to communicate with one another once more. This was especially important with Bernardino’s three surviving legitimate daughters, whom had been married and with children before several of their younger siblings, including Garp, had even been born. They were especially bitter about how their sister and mother had been treated by their father and while they had tried to contain their anger toward just Bernardino, their half-siblings had still felt their chill.

Bernardino had made twenty-three children in his quest to create a son and Garp was the youngest and only boy. He had legitimized his bastard daughters rather than abandon them when they turned out to be girls. However, that meant he also trained them to be refined ladies of status, able to navigate high society, then arranged to have them married off to numerous influential families around the world. He didn’t keep a single one of them in house to marry second or third cousins. That man did not waste opportunities even if it wasn’t ones he was initially seeking. Supposedly there had been some drama with that but no one could defy him.

Reuniting the family was a monumental task but one his mother, Griselda, had thrown herself into with great energy, and succeeded when no one thought she could, even though it meant baby Dragon being dragged hither and yon during these first few years. She had impressed the extended family, and some had even begun to affectionately refer to her as the Baroness, but only when Bernardino was not in earshot. Garp was nearly bursting with pride over his wife’s success and Dragon’s sister was born not too long after.

Her next task had been to buy the run-down tavern that his mother had once owned before she disappeared and Garp had spent his first ten years living in. She then hired people to run it, got it supplied and now it was a lively business that had sailors flocking to it when in port. It may not have been the same without his mother running it, there was no way it could be, but Garp’s wife had done her best to restore it to how it had been, atmosphere and all. This meant rowdy music, wily barmaids that took no nonsense from anyone and, above all, not a constable in sight. A gift and an expression of her deep affection for her husband. It had not gone unappreciated. Dragon’s little brother had appeared not long after Griselda had shown Garp the restored establishment.

Dragon had visited the place a few times, incognito, and it was a rough place with foul mouthed sailors from trade ships and even low-key pirates that were avoiding the attention of the local authorities by keeping trouble to a minimum. If it were anything like what it had been when his father was a child, he could easily see why his father could be so carefree when he wasn’t under Bernardino’s microscope.

Garp’s calm and good behavior around his wife was probably to show his profound respect for the mother of his children and for putting up with him. It was an odd thing, because to strangers they seemed indifferent and even cold to one another, but the warmth was there if anyone bothered to pay attention.

Then there was Dragon’s younger sister, Driselda. 

Their mother was raising her to be just as capable as her and just as inexpressive. However, probably because their mother wasn’t nearly as harsh nor strict as her family must have been, Driselda was still capable of showing emotions when she desired. She just had more control over her expressions. She kept a fan handy because she did fail to control them on an occasion if something that either really burned her or delighted her occurred. 

The fan allowed her to mask herself better than breaking her face trying to stay expressionless. It also gave her an appearance of airs that she often failed to create on her own merits. She was just too nice to people regardless of rank to ever successfully look down her nose at them. Dragon thought that a plus. His mother must have agreed because she happily supplied her daughter with a fan for every occasion and outfit. She even got herself some which oddly had the reverse effect of softening her expression and making her more approachable. His mother liked that even more, if the glitter of approval in her emerald eyes when she gazed in the mirror to admire her new accessories had been any indication.

His wretch of a grandfather was already talking about appropriate husbands. The man planned to marry his sister off as soon as she turned eighteen. Driselda was twelve now. It had been the cause of many heated battles between Garp and Bernardino in the last year. Bernardino had plans for Dragon too, but he was early in his career and not fighting him on it as Garp had. 

Since Dragon was cooperative, resigned really, Bernardino planned to wait until his grandson was at least five years more before distracting him with a wife and family. His sister, in his grandfather’s opinion served no purpose but to forge alliances with marriage. Best to get that done sooner rather than later when she was young and pretty and would be a prize for numerous bachelors. He would not allow her to be wasted by joining the Marines. His sister had been vocal about wanting to join Dragon and even worked on her combat skills along with studying politics and culture.

Bernardino had been against this combat training, thinking it would make her too aggressive for the tastes of the families he was looking over. Dragon’s mother declared it was always good for a woman to know how to defend her honor from men of ill intent. This did not sway Bernardino but Garp had put his foot down and sided with his wife. His sister’s combat training continued when she wasn’t studying house and intrigue, but it didn’t look like she would be joining the Marines, though. Not as long as their hateful grandfather was still alive.

Die already, crusty old man!

Then there was his younger brother, Atticus. The boy was ten years Dragon’s junior and miserable. It had become clear early in his training that Atticus was not the combat type. Instead, he had an overabundance of talent for the fine arts. He could play piano like a master and he wasn’t even nine years old yet. He also was working on the violin. Dragon loved listening to his little brother practice. Even when the boy hit the wrong notes it somehow didn’t sound awful, or maybe Dragon was just tone-deaf. Who cared, his little brother was amazing.

However, their grandfather had scoffed and insisted he put down such frivolous non-sense and get back to training. Part of Dragon’s cooperation was that he hoped to get Bernardino off his little brother’s back and free him to be the talented musician he was born to be. If Dragon became everything the old geezer wanted, then maybe his grandfather wouldn’t care what anyone else in the family was doing.

It wouldn’t solve his sister’s dilemma, but it might save his brother.

As he thought of his sister’s grim fate to be married off for political gain, Dragon contemplated his own future. He didn’t know if he ever would marry. This family was nothing but problems, and he didn’t want to place that burden onto another generation. His father had gotten lucky. He wasn’t sure he would and having to spend the rest of his life stuck with someone he absolutely loathed and who would raise his children to be just as loathsome as other nobles and royals made his stomach turn.

However, he didn’t think he would have a choice. To free Atticus from all demands and expectations by their grandfather, Dragon would have to become the perfect heir. That meant producing children of his own and that meant marriage. He sighed in defeat. While he mulled over his family drama, they trio arrived at their destination.

Prince Oliver opened the door to Altear’s grand library and Dragon shook his dark reminiscence from his head as he returned to the present. He gasped as he caught sight of the interior. When the Prince had mentioned the Royal Library, Dragon hadn’t expected anything like what was spreading out before him. He didn’t think anyone outside the Goldenrei Barony, or Marine Headquarters kept extensive records of anything except Ohara, which housed the Tree of Knowledge a legendary library contained within a massive tree said to contain at least one of every document ever published. 

The Royal Library was larger than a ballroom with five stories filled with shelves and books. It wasn’t as impressive as Ohara, but this place could easily hold second place, as far as Dragon was concerned. At the Prince’s urgings, the two followed him up a spiral staircase to the third floor that housed all of their military records. The whole floor was devoted to military history, tactics and battle strategies. The chronicles covered West Blue as well as historical events and major campaigns from around the world. West Blue, however, held the majority of the floor and probably contained smaller, less well-known battles and even pirate versus Marine fights that would not have been covered by more than the local newspapers.

The Prince smiled at the two young men gaped at the wealth of knowledge presented to them.

“If you’re interested in anything else just ask but this floor is the one that contains the records you were interested in exploring,” Oliver said. “The records on the Kriegans are here,” he continued as he pulled out two thick hardbacks and a pair of slimmer books with softer covers. “This follows them up to ten years ago. I’m afraid anything more recent will be in a more active file and not present.”

“I wonder if there is anything on the architectural history of Altear,” said Lance, appearing to have recovered from his initial awe. Dragon belatedly remembered that Lance’s homeland probably had nothing like this for a library. While Dragon had visited Ohara, at his grandfather’s insistence during his three years of preparatory training at the estate, Lance would not have seen anything bigger than a base’s archives. No status meant no access to Headquarters’ archive and this was ten times bigger than Headquarters’. Actually, how did he not faint from the overwhelming weight of history pressing down on them? There was only so much one could mentally prepare for.

Dragon took the books with a word of thanks and went to a nearby reading chair. This was exactly what he wanted but it seemed so surreal almost as if he were dreaming. He sat down and Lance joined him soon after with his own pile. Dragon then buried his face in his book in embarrassment after he caught a glimpse of the Prince smiling at them in soft manner usually reserved for young children doing something cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, the holidays and the move are all working against me. Things are quieting down but it’s hard to work on my workdays. Really, Part One is actually fully written, what’s happening is I’m going back through and editing and adding to it. Massive expansions or additions to the story require another edit run through and put at least a couple of days between edit sweeps to make finding the errors easier. This chapter kept getting expanded on as I focused on Dragon family drama some more, allowing us to learn a little more about his mother, sister and brother. Part of all this is to flesh out the unique history of my One Piece-verse so we know where everyone stands. 
> 
> Some may recall Garp’s wife writing a letter to Garp that got read aloud with a bunch of high-ranking officers and Akainu present near the end of Coby’s Confusion. So we are learning more about Dragon’s family, whom we meet in Part Two.
> 
> Chapter 10 is going to be a bit delayed. I realized that I need to flesh him out some more and we’re getting his perspective in the next chapter, so the perfect place to get more of Oliver’s view, his family’s view and the Altear’s stance in the world. Which is really important later.
> 
> I know this is all tedious and not fun to read. No action, no comedy, we’re getting there. Maryanne will return in Chapter 11… and then we don’t really get rid of her despite how much Dragon wishes we would. Things should liven up then.
> 
> 8888888888
> 
> All of the history is my head cannon. I reuse that head cannon between all my One Piece fics if it doesn’t argue with the story I’m writing. The mentioning of Kaguya is much more important for the Fire Prince series than Dark Sea Chronicles, and I don’t think it will even be mentioned in Storm Warning. 
> 
> Just a reminder, I do reuse characters, as well as history, across the three series but they could wind up with slightly different personalities depending on what the story calls for. But these three series, Dark Sea Chronicles, Fire Prince and Storm Warning are not interlinked. In Fire Prince, Ace wasn’t even at Marineford so he was never even in danger of being killed. In Storm Warning, Ace survives being hit by Akainu’s lava fist. In Dark Sea Chronicles it follows the cannon storyline until chapter 900 of the manga, so Ace is very dead and does not come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, posting this is simply to state that I’m still working on my One Piece Fan Fic. I haven’t abandoned it or given up. It is just this one section is giving me some trouble. I have it mapped out what I want to do, it’s the execution I’m having trouble with. 
> 
> This is the prologue to Mark of the Wind, which is a miniseries within the Dark Sea Chronicles that tells the story of Luffy’s parents. This will contain seven multi-chapter parts with a Prologue and Epilogue. This was original begun as a flashback sequence within Pluton, so the Prologue is taking place prior to the battle of Pluton off the coast of Alabasta. Part of the Epilogue will be before and part of it will be after, maybe. Or maybe the Epilogue will be all after. That’s why in Pluton and the sequel short stories had references to what Lance told the crew about Luffy’s parents. 
> 
> I know you all are awaiting Shard of the Moon which is the next in the main storyline but to understand what happens in there you do need to know more about Luffy’s parents so this needs to be written first. Also a few of the sequels after it are also relying on events occurring in Mark of the Wind.


End file.
